I woke from my nap, opened my front door and found the day to be gorgeous, checked the thermometer and it said 72 degrees. I ran into my bedroom, discarded my sweats, threw on a pair of bermuda shorts, flip-flops and a tank top. Sure my hair was mushed up on one side, but who wants to spend time in front of a mirror when there's a warm day to enjoy.
I walked down to get the mail. Oops, I noticed I hadn't shaved my legs since August, my toenail polish had grown out a full 2/3s and my tank top was a huge problem. They say, during the holidays, a person will easily gain seven pounds. That's true and at a "certain age" you gain the full seven pounds in your arm wings.
There I was, in all my glory, reaching into my mailbox when Boss Hogg's funeral procession slowly made it's way down my, out of the way, rural road toward the little, out of the way, cemetery. Boss Hogg must have been popular, 40 cars acknowledged my presence with a nod. Here in Texas, out of respect for the dearly departed, one must stand "stiffly" on the side of the road during a funeral procession. Trust me, there was no place to hide.
I looked like I had been mailed from Jamaica and it took thirty years for me to arrive. I managed to crawl back inside my house, slamming the front door and put my sweats back on my body.
I have to diet, shave and get a pedicure before another 70+ degree day arrives and I better start today. Now, where did I put that orange toenail polish?