Secret single behaviors revealed, vol. 1
I came home from work around 8. It was rainy and cold and already dark. Feels like winter. I went upstairs, took off my makeup, put toothpaste on a zit growing on my chin to try to stop it in its tracks, which means I have a dried spot of green paste on my chin now.
I changed into:
- a Walt Disney World t-shirt in dull sage green that is so worn there are holes around the stretched out collar, the stitching looks white at the seams, the letters are cracked and peeling and there's red paint in spots from when I helped my friend Kimmy paint her bathroom;
- a pair of flannel pjs that are way too big and way too short and have toasters and coffee pots and other silly things on them;
- a pair of thick green wool socks that I got at REI in Seattle when they opened the new store there along I5;
- my glasses.
I look ridiculous, but I'm curled up under a blanket on the couch so the neighbors can't see me if they look in the window.
I changed into:
- a Walt Disney World t-shirt in dull sage green that is so worn there are holes around the stretched out collar, the stitching looks white at the seams, the letters are cracked and peeling and there's red paint in spots from when I helped my friend Kimmy paint her bathroom;
- a pair of flannel pjs that are way too big and way too short and have toasters and coffee pots and other silly things on them;
- a pair of thick green wool socks that I got at REI in Seattle when they opened the new store there along I5;
- my glasses.
I look ridiculous, but I'm curled up under a blanket on the couch so the neighbors can't see me if they look in the window.
Comments
How's that for stuff that should remain secret?