Did you ever hear that old joke about the woman who went into the basement to throw some things in the washing machine? She was sorting laundry and a pipe was dripping on her head so she put on her son’s football helmet to protect her head. Then she decided to throw the bathrobe she was wearing in with the wash. So she was standing in the basement wearing only a football helmet when she heard a man in the corner, clearing his throat. It was the meter reader and the woman hadn’t realized he was in the house. He said, “Sure hope your team wins, lady.”
Maybe it’s not a joke--it could be a true story. But there’s something so wrong about that story, too many holes. I need explanations. For example, why would she ignore a leak above her head? Was the football helmet the only thing available to protect her? And why on earth was the meter reader hiding in the corner of her basement without her knowing he was there? That’s a little sketchy.
Whatever . . . I’m not going to take on the veracity of that legend. I just was thinking about that story today when I was running the vacuum. One thing led to another this morning and I spent the morning wearing a t-shirt with major bleach stains, ratty old pajama pants, and a brand-new pair of high heels. Early this morning I had received a UPS package containing a pair of shoes I had ordered online—cute little taupe pumps with flowers on the toes. Don’t you know it’s rude to ask how many pairs of shoes I have? You wouldn’t ask a rancher how many acres he has, would you? Trust me, I needed cute little taupe pumps with flowers on the toes. And I needed to walk around in them in the house to test out the fit before I decided to keep them. What better way to test out the shoes than to wear them while I was running the vacuum? But as I was vacuuming in the grubby t-shirt, pajama pants, and high heels with flowers, a shiver went down my spine. Could there possibly be a meter reader in the house? Or worse, the fashion police from that TV show where they secretly videotape people who dress poorly. My daughter has threatened to sic the fashion stalkers on me so it’s possible they will ambush me at exactly the moment I’m wearing the grubbies with flowered high heels. Please don’t throw away everything I own and make me go shopping for all new stuff. Even with the $5000 budget, I would be totally miserable. I couldn’t find $5000 worth of clothes I wanted. Guess I should keep the windows covered and the doors securely locked.