Thursday, December 22, 2011
This morning I was scrambling around, as I always do, trying to get ready for work. Truth be told, I have no clean clothes (I loathe laundry), and I was left with one clean dress I could feasibly wear to work. But I had no pantyhose. I work at a conservative bank and have to wear hose. Sigh.
My car was unexpectedly and ferociously frosted over, and after blasting the defroster and scraping the windows the best I could with a spatula for about ten minutes, I finally drove away from home, noticing that my gas light was on. And I needed panty hose. Sigh.
So I got gas, ran over to Walmart, and scrambled to find the right size and color of hose I needed and rushed out, making the twenty minute drive to work (when I had to be there in fifteen minutes).
I got there just in time and rushed into the bathroom and put on... my thigh highs!! Oh Lord, I had no idea I bought thigh highs! I got a kick out of it and laughed about it to my coworkers and dealt with it. Although I kept waiting for the cheesy bow-chicka-wow-wow music to kick in as I play "bank teller" in my low budget "film."
Anyways, they started to sag. Fifteen minutes later. All morning I felt like Sylvester and Tweety's Granny, hiking up my nylons that were circling my calves. How professional.
Anywho... lunchtime rolls around and, being December 22 and all, I'm sitting in the post office parking lot filling out the Christmas cards that I lead others to believe I mailed out two weeks prior. Thats how I roll. My lunch hour was nearly over and I still had to rush in and buy stamps, so I tucked all the cards in my purse, hiked up my dress to my nether ye, and yank my thigh highs up as best I can, again.
I jump out of the car, and wouldn't you know, a man is sitting in the truck next to me. The truck that was not there two minutes ago. He was staring at me, with his neck brace, thinking Lord only knows what this young floosy must be doing in the post office parking lot. I walked away with as much dignity that a person with thigh highs to her ankles could muster, and finished my errand.
I rush back to work (a few minutes late...) and laugh about my ordeal to my coworker. Sylvia is a riotously hilarious lady who I love working with, and she thought my mishap was hysterical. I settle in to my station (I'm a teller at a bank), and I hear the drive thru buzzer go off and I go to greet the customer. The lovely lady was wearing her brightest and cutest Christmas sweater, clearly beaming with holiday cheer as she enthusiastically says hello to me. I greet her in the same manner, until I see the passenger. Her husband. Wearing a neck brace. Recognizing me.
I rush off back to my spot to do the transaction (out of sight from the drive thru window), and I yell over to Sylvia "OH MY GOD, THAT GUY IS IN THE DRIVE THRU!!"
Sylvia is cracking up and peeks out to see who it is (its a small town and she literally knows everyone), and she yells back to me "OH MY GOD, THATS MY COUSIN!! I can't wait to ask him how the show was!"
Lesson learned? Time to get some laundry done.