I spent the morning running errands sans children. It was quite fab-a-lous to be by myself and able to think without anyone whining in the back seat.
I spent several hours at the bookstore and library doing “research” (wink-wink) and got a little more than I bargained for at the library. I saw a woman leaving the library with an arm full of books in a sports bra and shorts and get this, flip-flops. She was built about like me, which means even if she WAS at the gym she should have been wearing a shirt. BUT, the flip-flops filled me with doubt…you don’t wear flops to the gym.
Now I’m not going to “front” if you will, I’ve been known to use the “I-just-left-the-gym-don’t-judge-me-card” before. I’ve been too lazy to put on real clothes and pretended I just left the gym, but I at least followed through by wearing running shoes and a baseball hat, and occasionally dousing my face with water to look like I’d been sweating. (OK, so I’ve never really taken it THAT far, but I did have the decency to wear a SHIRT, for crying out loud!)
After my adventure at the library I went to the post office and grocery store, where I was ONCE again called ma’am no less than eight times…I counted. I am OVER this, people. I have a problem being called ma’am by someone ten to fifteen years younger than me and I have a MAY-JAH problem letting a man over 70 carry my groceries to my car…double standard? Yes. Do I care? NO. Would it be too much to ask to let PawPaw run the register and be sweet and send the young whipper snappers out in the ninety degree heat to push buggies and unload groceries? I think NOT!
That is so hilarious. I feel the same way about the sweet 80 year old man who offers to take mine out. I always say no but I do need help. The young whipper snappers are somewhere on a sofa playing video games. Baby John will take your groceries out for you one day when he turns 16.