Vignettes: Checked Out

This was an interesting day from start to finish. It started off with a yow... and ended with a wow. :c)

First, the yow.

(Actually, the yows.)




My day began with one of those self-inflicted wounds in which I (and my sister-in-klutziness Stace) seem to excel.  :c)

I was washing my hair this morning during my shower. With my head down, I reached out to the left for the shampoo, which was on a shelf.

Whoops. lol

My right shoulder and the right side of my neck both began to bark simultaneously.

Somehow I managed to finish shampooing. After a few moments to build my nerve, I slowly lifted my head.

Ow. Ow. Ow.

I managed to get dressed - and adding insult to injury, it was in boy mode. Sigh. The usual uniform of a loose polo shirt, black jeans, and my ratty sneakers. It is unpleasant, to say the least, but what can a girl do, after all? ;-)

I spent the rest of the day at the office ignoring everyone who attempted to address me from the right. It seemed to work (although I suppose I have no way to prove that, do I)?

Deciding my daily allocation pain had not yet been met, I proceeded directly from the office to - you guessed it - electrolysis.

And just to ensure maximum discomfort, we decided to do a bit of cleanup work around the corners of my mouth for the first 10 minutes or so, and then move on to tame the caterpillars attempting to reclaim their territory above my eyes.

Ignoring my suggestion of simply dousing the entire area with a can of Raid, M, my therapist, did her usual thorough job. In this case, that meant ensuring that the occasional shooting pain from my shoulder was generally balanced out by the more low-key, headache-inducing throb of working just above my clenched baby blues. ;-p

At the blessed end of the hour, things finally, finally began to pick up.

As I was gingerly writing out a check to her, M suddenly stopped her end-of-day cleanup and looked at me.

"You look different tonight, Cass," she said.

"Oh?"

"Yes. From last week to this week, I see a genuine change."

"How so?" I asked.

She thought for a moment.

"You look much more feminine. It is really striking now that I look at you."

"Well, thank you, M," I said, as my face turned its typical crimson.

"You look extra pretty tonight, hon," she replied. "You really do. And you know me; I mean what I say. If I don't think it, I won't say anything."

"You know, I already wrote out the check, so I can't add any zeroes," I joked.

She batted me lightly on the shoulder (my left shoulder, thankfully). :c)

"Oh, you!" she said. "You need to learn how to accept a compliment like a lady. You don't need to joke every time someone says something nice."

Dutifully chastened, I promised to work on it before my next session - which prompted her to reply that I was assuming I would *deserve* a compliment next week.

Well played, M, well played. :c)

***

Before I could get home to my date (unfortunately, it was with a heating pad ;-p), I had to go grocery shopping.

After picking up my usual cart full of creme soda and honey BBQ chips (I never know when my sister April may decide to elude the Border Patrol in the throes of a chip withdrawal, after all), I proceeded to the register.

There was only one open for orders larger than 12 items, so I dutifully waited behind the two gentleman ahead of me.

The gentleman closest to me reached over to the magazines, pulled one off the rack, and began to idly flip through it.

I glanced over - and saw it was Rolling Stone's Bruce Springsteen Collector's Issue.

Score!!!

After a few minutes the line began to move, and he slipped the magazine back into the rack - which I promptly removed and added to my cart. (Of course! I mean, duh! This is The Boss, after all!)

When enough room cleared for me to begin adding my items, the magazine was the first thing I put down.

This caught the eye of the magazine's previous purveyor in front of me. He glanced at it for a moment, then glanced at me and smiled.

"I take it you're a fan?" he asked.

"I am - a diehard, in fact," I said. "You should get it too."

"I like him, but I was thinking of getting it for my wife, actually," he said.

"Oh, go for it then!" I told him. "Trust me - women love Bruce."

He looked at my magazine again, then at me, and then smiled.

"Well, obviously you do."

:#)

As I was driving home, I played it back in my mind.

With my neck throbbing, I was moving with, well, less than ladylike grace.

The skin around my eyes and mouth was blotchy and swollen.

Oh, and I was in boy mode.

And yet somehow he still took me as a girl.

Not a bad end to the day!

***

Can I end with anything other than Bruce? I think not!

And the fact that Bruce is shirtless and sporting a full head of curls had nothing to do with my choice whatsoever. No, seriously, it didn't! I mean it...