Vignettes: It's Not Easy (Being Blonde)

It is late, I am tired, and I just took something to help me sleep…

But some posts demand to be written.

This, however, is NOT one of them.

lol

But in my quest to be as honest as possible with you, dear reader, I shall share yet another moment from Cass's seemingly endless Walk of Shame.

Join me, won't you?

Just don't get too close; I'm liable to trip and take you down with me.

You have been warned...




I just had, without a doubt, the single blondest moment of my life.

No offense, April.

(Well… maybe *just* a little…)

Anyway, I was in my bathroom straightening up earlier this evening.

I pulled my towel off its rack to straighten it out.

And it was wet.

I was baffled.

I looked up at the ceiling.

Completely dry.

I felt the wall.

Also dry.

I felt the floor.

Dry as a bone.

I stepped back, coming to a stop on the small rug outside the shower.

It was wet.

"Huh?" I thought to myself.

I felt in the shower.

It, too, was wet.

It was then - and ONLY then - that I realized I did not need to dig up my Dick Tracy Crime Stopper Kit to get to the bottom of this mystery.

Why?

Because it was at that precise moment that I solved the mystery all by my lonesome.

By realizing that I had taken a shower.

In fact, I had taken it fairly recently.

As in, less-than-ten-minutes-recently, in fact.

Oops.

:#)

I am going to go out on a limb and say methinks I am, perhaps, somewhat distracted at the moment. Would you agree? lol

***

Fortunately, I knew in my moment of shame that I could reach out to my friends and loved ones for the kind of support I know they are eager to impart to your humble blogstress.

First I reached out to my friend and co-worker R.

A bit of background, to help set the stage for Miss R's words of wisdom.

R is, perhaps, the single most exuberant, upbeat, outgoing person I have ever known.

She would know just what to say. Guaranteed.

That is why I eagerly awaited her response.

After what I can only assume was an attempt to impart to me her most heartfelt, compassionate thoughts, my phone buzzed, indicating her reply had arrived.

I picked up the phone and clicked to open it.

It said, and I quote:

"I."

"Am."

"Speechless."

Sometimes these things speak for themselves, do they not? :D

***

Next came the musings from none other than your friend and mine, my sister from the North, our Miss April.

What thoughts did she send down New England way across the Maple Curtain, you ask?

Here they are:

"New York Times headline: Cass Proves Water Wet"

And *that*, my dear reader,  is why my title mocks the follically fair amongst us.

You know who you are.

(Hint: It's April, everyone…)

;-p

***

A pair of appropriate songs for your Sunday evening/Monday morning.

First up: , the late, great Bobby Darin, from 1973:

Second: well really, who else could it be but your friend and mine, Sesame Street's Ernie?

I must admit, Ernie's introduction is certainly, well… open to interpretation, is it not? lol

Oh well, at least I still have enough modesty to have turned bright red upon even *thinking* such a thing! :#) Cass, you are a bad, bad, girl!

My humblest apologies, to you and your little bath time friend, Ernie.

No wait! I did it again!

I shall quit while I am ahead, dear reader. One can only absorb so many years in purgatory. Look how long it took the Red Sox to win a World Series if you need proof! And all they did was sell Babe Ruth to the Yankees!

Well, actually, they *did* deserve to wait for that…. but 86 years?!? Jeez…

Have a good week, everyone!