So this morning (sssshhhh…it was noon-ish), I was out on my deck drinking coffee naked and engaging my bod in active yoga poses when I caught a glimpsy of my nakey self in the sliding glass door.
Now, first, don’t all of us sit on the deck naked? I mean, it’s 68 sunny damn degrees. It was begging for my clothes to come off to catch up all the Vitamin D it could, and they say the body craves what it needs, and mine was craving more sun on my pasty skin so obvi I had to do it for my health.
I know, I know – I, too, am slightly worried that I can be viewed by the neighbors. But I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – they’re only going to look once. Then they’ll be busy taking up a petition with the whole entire block to force me to wear clothes when I’m outside. Since that hasn’t happened yet, I assume I’m invisible when I’m out there.
Anyway, the point of this story is this:
1/ I need to shave my legs. Wowie, Reader. This Quarantine hasn’t done my grooming any favors. Catching a glimpse of those things in the harsh light of day made that crystal clear.
2/ While doing a hamstring stretch with my leg on the table, something large and moving caught my peripheral vision and I screamed for My Mister. He came slowly lumbering out the door to see what the ruckus was – I’m going on the record of saying that he should really move just a tich faster when he hears me scream, and I think you would all agree. I could literally be bled out before he made his way to check out the sitch. Just the other day I was getting out of the shower and let out a bloodcurdler, and he didn’t even jump up off the bed – 5 steps away – until I yelled, “CAN YOU COME IN HERE FOR FUCKSSAKE?!!”
At that point he said, “That was a scream like I haven’t heard from you before, I thought maybe you’d fallen in there.”
Let that soak in, Reader.
“A scream like I haven’t heard from you before.”
“I thought maybe you’d fallen.”
To which I ask you, Reader, why didn’t he spring up to check it out?? Why was he still lying on the BED if that’s the case??
This is the level of care and concern I get around here, and you should know it, just in case something DOES happen to me, you can stand at my funeral and lambaste him for his lagging response time. That’s exactly what I want to happen at my funeral: Lambaste and Shame My Mister if I should die in a home accident because he didn’t promptly respond. Now that we have my funeral goals established, let’s move on.
To answer your question, the Bathroom Scream resulted from a million-legger walking around on the wall near my towel. He got re-homed outside of the home.
The second Deck Scream was because I saw a very dangerous and treacherous leaf shadow dancing around on the back of the chair next to me.
Which is probably why My Mister lumbers towards when he hears me scream, I’m literally the Girl Who Cries Bug, but I still demand prompt and thorough attention when a scream is involved and feel that is only right and justified for all that I give around here. Which is a lot, Reader, believe you me. And I’m not even counting the Unprompted Peep Shows and Moonings I deliver on a somewhat regular basis.
3/ The third and final Naked Deck Discovery today was when I spied with my little eye my sideways reflection in the sliding glass door. I mean. Wow. I startled myself. I told My Mister, “I just don’t think I’m THIS FAT when I think of myself.”
He thoughtfully replied, “Well, who do you think you look like, Charlize Theron?” and then he hee hee’d and hawww haha’d for a good two minutes at his own cleverness.
So basically in my mind’s eye I’m only half as fat as I am in reality, and My Mister isn’t having sex (with a partner – he may be having all sorts of sex by himself for all I know) for two weeks due to his own funny haha’s.
I think we could all agree that’s only fair.