A month or so ago, while exiting the post office across the street from my apartment, I was stopped by a very handsome young man sitting on the front steps. He was eating a sub. He'd watched me go in, and said that he couldn't let me go on with my day without (effusively) complimenting me on my outfit. It made my day. Especially the part about the sub. I really love subs, so obviously the young man and I were kindred spirits. Which clearly makes him an expert in ridiculous outfits.
I can see the post office from here.
I can see that same young man from my balcony, at this very moment. He is sitting on the steps of the post office, reading a newspaper.
The young man clearly works at the post office.
I'm having a tough few days--post-vacation blues, and all that--and was seriously debating putting on an "outfit" and going to the post office...until I noticed that he was wearing long shorts. Like, manpris. Hmm. It puts his compliment into question.
But now that I've typed out the above, it occurs to me that I am inches away from becoming the woman who puts on red lipstick for the mailman. Sigh. Even when I'm busy, I have too much time on my brain.
I had Ringolos and Riesen candies for supper. I can't tell you what to eat anymore.
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