Since I work at home somehow I end up being the one to receive and chat with workmen at our home. The latest research is getting quotes to replace our AC and system so that we no longer have to look at summer power bills for $550 per month.
Today I did the usual leading around and chatting with a contractor on all three floors of the house. We were on the top floor in a hallway with the light on and on the walls we have photos. One of them is a large photo portrait of me taken when I was 18 years old. My mother passed the portrait along to me when I was about 30 and I kept it in a closet. Then a little over 10 years later I brought it out and have hung it ever since.
In the hallway today after we finished discussing heat and AC systems, the contractor looked at the portrait then at me and asked if that was my daughter. Hmmmmph. Guess there is no resemblance any longer.
And now it is five o'clock and I just may make my no longer young and recognizable self a margarita to go along with my practical Mexican crockpot chicken. Have a great Friday night!
5 comments:
Or maybe the...timeless beauty of the girl in the photograph...led the workman guy to believe it was taken recently, and therefore must be your daughter...who you had when you were merely a child. Okay I'm just vamping here. Hope you enjoyed your margarita.
Hmmmmm. I am trying to figure out how to spin this.
Ummm
Ummmm
Yah I got nothing!
I agree with Gretchen the workman obviously thought you were a child bride.
At least you had delish chicken and a margarita.
Oh. Well. How DOES one respond to that?
Margaritas all around.
Time marches on and it will leave tracks all over your face. Or something like that. According to Truvy in Steel Magnolias and according to me in real life.
I know this feeling. I was once watching a very young and adorable guy install my dishwasher, had just exchanged what I thought was a cheerful conversation between equals when I overheard him say to someone on the phone "I gotta go -- I'm working at some lady's house with a bunch of kids." I felt like Mother Goose.
Post a Comment