Wanna go out vicariously? Picture this...
I've made a couple of posts lately that have pointed some of the difficulties of transition. Not for sympathy, but by way of background, I've got a lot going on, much of it highly stressful.
I've had a couple of minor successes this week but had a lot of website/IT stuff to finish, which is not my best role; but as a sole proprietor, I wear all hats. So, I have a cocktail and dig in; hours later, I finish about ten pm; famished I decide to stop at a local, regional taco joint drive through to get a combo meal on the way home.
Now I'm way beyond worrying about what the high school kid in the order window thinks and I'm dressed and made up reasonably for my age as I am on any other work day. Beige blouse, shorts, cardigan because it's cool tonight. I pay and get my order, drive out into the nearly empty parking lot; Lady Gaga singing quietly in the background; (I like "up" music late, and when I'm down).
Anyway, I have the window partway down because even though it's raining lightly, I'm under a tree; open my dinner and start to eat. Halfway through my soft taco, I feel what is apparently a piece of shredded lettuce, but might be a rogue diced tomato leap to escape being consumed and land squarely in my cleavage. I quickly switch the remains of the taco to my other hand, as I will need my full dexterity to retrieve the errant vegetable in the dark. With a mouth full of taco, one hand down in between my breasts, trying to fish out part of my dinner, of course you can imagine what happens next...
Knock at the window: "Ma'am, you forgot your sauce."
The young man is quite lucky he had the window to protect him from hyper-velocity taco particles as I quickly inhaled a half bite of taco and then proceeded to try and damp down the resulting hacking and choking. Needless to say, there will be some upholstery cleaning this weekend.
That'll teach me to not forget my sauce.
Thea
