Only in my world, is humor mixed within tragedy...
Saturday, Dale stops by my home to drop off some financials and commercial development deals for me to work through while he is up North dealing with his father's death.
Now mind you, I didn't know he was coming, so there I was in house cleaning mode. Cleaning mode is no shower, hair up in a high bent pigtail, ugly sweats, barefoot, no make up and some god awful holy t-shirt. Oh yes, and my worst bra.
You see ... I am one of those old-fashioned cleaning types, who scrubs everything on their hands and knees. The very last thing I do is take a shower. I clean the tub just before I bathe. I end the cleaning day all clean myself, and sit down to a nice glass of Pinot.
However, Dale arrives at 11:00 am, just after I scrubbed the kitchen floor and am in the bathroom cleaning the toilet. This is definitely not clean, Pinot Catherine. Visualize bright green rubber gloves with your lovely picture of my cleaning self and you can imagine what I look like as I round the corner to the sound of his "Hello" coming through the screen door.
There he is all 6 foot, god-of-something feet tall, dark Amazon man in shorts, a pressed t-shirt - sporting a tan. I'd smile big to distract him, but I haven't brushed my teeth. I don't want to turn him to stone.
In he comes right into my mid-morning cleaning. I notice Brian has dirty underwear at the entrance to his bedroom. I am hoping Dale won't look that way, as I wonder how they missed the laundry I just completed.
Dale sits right down at my dining room table piled high with folded laundry. He opens his leather bag and begins pulling out documents. We make small talk, as I try to smell myself when he's not looking. I am sure I smell something of laundry soap, boys old socks, pinesol and dirty water.
Then my heart stops.
His left arm is resting on the pile of my folded underwear.
To the left of his hand, my folded bra - looking like some white boob laying face up on the table.
"Please God strike me with lightning at this moment and remove me from this place - NOW!"
God rarely listens to me these days.
Luckily Dale doesn't seem to notice, or he is ignoring the pile. I, however cease to hear another word he says, because my eyes are mortifiably fixated on my folded panties and white lace boob sitting on the table. Good God I am in hell.
After what seems like three years, Dale finally has to leave. He gets up and says goodbye. To my relief my underwear isn't clinging to his arm hair. Brian begins to come out of his room and steps on his dirty underwear while saying bye to Dale. Of course, Dale glances down at Brian's feet. He grins. Well... Dale does have 5 children - 4 boys and 1 girl. He says nothing but a "Bye" to Brian.
Is there is big hole for me to jump into yet?
As he walks away I check out his backside to make sure none of my laundry is sticking to him. I am sure Cinderella had it better. At least no mice ran across Dale's path as he walked out the door...
Until next time-
C
PS. Now ... what in the hell am I suppose to do with his stack of papers?
