I've Become A Cliche

Posted on October 20, 2010

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I was sitting at my computer yesterday morning, minding my own business and looking like I do every morning: skimpy tee shirt with no bra (I am, shall we say, well-endowed and I should actually be sleeping in a bra), ratty pajama bottoms, electrified-looking hair.  My Now Husband Dan had left to fondle his boat.  I had a phone call to tell me the electrician was on his way.  I went back to what I was doing, most likely involving checking my stats on WordPress to see if anyone out there liked me.

  I’m not sure how much time went by, but I heard a knock on the door. A couple brain cells reluctantly fired, suddenly reminding me about the electrician.  It was too late to get dressed.  I ran to the door, holding one arm tightly across my chest (but being extremely unable to hide my breasts), reaching out to open the door with the other.  There, standing on my porch, was Mr Friendly Electrician: tall, dark, handsome, approximately my son’s age.

 To say I was flustered was an understatement.  I started babbling:

“Oh!  Sorry!  I forgot to get dressed!” (This was clearly the wrong way to begin.)

“It’ll just take a minute!  Come in!”  He did, looking like he was entering surgery, knowing there would be no anesthesia.  I ran to the bedroom, coincidently the very place where he was to be working.  I threw on my bra and workout clothes and ran back to the living room.  He had already fled the house and was back at his truck.  I tried to get his attention, but he stood at the truck with his back to the house. 

I finally realized he wouldn’t come back on his own.  I yelled really loudly “I’m ready now!” Again, exactly the wrong thing to say. Of course, at that moment, one neighbor was walking his dog and another was pushing a stroller. I’m sure everyone else was looking out their windows.  I wondered what demon had taken over my brain. It took the electrician forever to turn around.  Relief washed over his face when he saw that I wasn’t naked.  He came back into the house. Gingerly.  Not only did I make sure not to go anywhere near the bedroom while he was working, I didn’t even use the bathroom. 

By the time he finished, we were both much calmer.  I signed the work completion form and thanked him for his work and led him to the door.  He got into the truck but, before he even pulled out, he was dialing his cell phone.  I’m sure I can guess who he was calling and what he was saying.  Next time, I really am going to sleep in my bra.

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