The Waiting Game

Today I am...

BEAUTIFUL according to the guy at the Tim Horton's drive thru window (who I happen to see at least 5 times a week) and the bank teller (again, who I see frequent three times a week). So I return to the garage where I am finally getting my oil changed (500 miles overdue) and confront hubby.

What's different with me today? Look at me, I am the same, same hair, makeup, smile. I don't get it. Why am I beautiful today? He smiles, that damn handsome, make me weak in the knees smile that gets me every frickin time, and says, "You're beautiful everyday, sweetie."

Man, what am I supposed to say to that? And then, he plants a kiss on my lips. Now, I don't even remember why I cared that suddenly, today, as I am dressed for success in my lovely paint splattered gray sweats, why I cared that people thought I looked beatiful.

Then I do recall that there is something different. Something old, but hardly ever worn. Ah yes, it must be the damn $100 sunglasses that hubby bought me a year ago, and complained that I never wore. I wore them today, and guess what? They suck. They are a fashion statement -yes, certainly- but do they do their job? HELL NO!

The lovely designer, waste of money sunglasses do not block the sun from my eyes. I find myself squinting when it's really bright. But hey, they sure do get me noticed.