Okay, unrelated to my actual post, but works with the title: the neighbors (upstairs) have the heat running, which means there is heat squeezing into my apartment through closed vents. HEAT, people! When it’s in the 60s and muggy. Sometimes it feels like a sauna, despite the fact that I have most of my windows open. Or maybe because of that fact, what with the humidity outside. I don’t know.
And now, to the (coughbullshitcough) real news:
I took the dogs to the vet yesterday. No worries, no problems, just time for their annual needle-pokes (that they hold a grudge against me for subjecting them to, for about 5 minutes). (Okay, Shamrock, I admit, they were a little overdue. Don’t tell on me, ‘kay?) I took them all the way to my old vet clinic in St. Joe, because the staff there has always been good to me. The cost of the trip is something I’m more than willing to pay to have my dogs taken care of by someone I trust. Both the tech and the vet mentioned the distance I traveled to get there (Just OP to St. Joe). I can’t tell if they were flattered or if they were questioning my sanity, but I think they were flattered. At the same time, the vet did mention that the cost of the commute would be less than the difference in price for an emergency visit in this area.
While ‘Bina was being examined, I told the vet and tech about my world travels since they last saw me. (A very high overview of the locations, not much of the details.) Vet had a stethoscope to ‘Bina’s chest during the part where I said, “…and now I’m in Overland Park.” He listened for another minute or so to ‘Bina’s inner workings, then took off the ’scope and put it around his neck (as most docs will do) and said, “You look good.” He was looking at ‘Bina. He was patting ‘Bina. But he had a tone of … sincerity? maybe? that didn’t quite fit with telling a dog she seems to be in good health. And I told ‘Bina, as I ruffled her ears, “You hear that? You’re looking good for an old lady!” And I picked her up and put her back on the floor.
Okay, maybe you’re already thinking a thought that didn’t occur to me until I was on the road to OP again. I’ll get to that in a minute. I’ve pretty much always had a crush on this doc. When I called ahead to see if they were still taking walk-ins for shots, as they always have, and was told he was the doc on shot patrol that morning, I was happy. Not because of the crush, although that didn’t hurt, but because it’s a father/son/other vet clinic, and the son is my favorite of the 3 docs. Most personable with the dogs. (”…most dogable??”) As he was examining Pepper, I noticed he’s not wearing a wedding ring. (The vet. Pepper isn’t married.) I can’t remember if he used to wear a ring, but I know he was married. Whether or not he is now, well, who knows. I certainly wasn’t going to ask him.
So the thought that occurred to me in a very delayed fashion: Was he talking to me when he gave that compliment?
I actually blinked hard and rattled my head when the thought struck me. On 435. About halfway back to OP. I re-examined every glance, every word, every bit of attention he paid when I said, “things fell apart in Georgia, so I moved to Jersey.” For the rest of the drive home, my mind was turning ’round and ’round with the concept. I wasn’t still wearing my pretty dress from the night before. I hadn’t done anything to my hair, and my bangs still showed a little of the bed-head I’d brushed out of it before I put on my (very limited, day-off) makeup and headed out the door.
I actually felt silly Monday night. I felt like I had been dressed by someone else. I felt like I was too fat to be wearing thigh-highs. I felt like the dress was too short for someone my age. I felt like all my lumps and rolls were on display, not to mention my lack of grace, wearing 2-inch heels. I felt like people were laughing at me as they stared or looked twice. On my way out the door, one of the waiters was leaning on a wall near the kitchen entry, watching the show, and looked at me as I walked towards him. He smiled at me. It’s a pretty classy place (compared to my usual haunts), and smiling at guests is kind of a given. I didn’t think much of it, just smiled back at him. Then his gaze traveled down to my legs, and suddenly in my mind, he wasn’t smiling. He was leering. Or laughing. My cheeks flushed and I had this weird sensation. I wanted to slap him for being impertinent, or run and hide from his inspection.
When Dad and I came to the apartment before the show, William had gotten home from work, and when I walked between the curtains into the living area, his eyebrows hit his hairline, and he said, “You look nice.” He’d never seen me in anything fancier than good jeans.
I just don’t know what to make of myself these days. For work, I wear black nylon pants (warm-ups? running pants? I don’t know what they’d really be called) and t-shirts, so it’s not like I have any regular opportunities to wear nice stuff, or anything that would show off any assets I might have. I’m not used to the reaction I’ve been getting lately from strangers. So any kind of reaction they give, I don’t know whether to think it’s admiration causing their second looks, or more of an “ohmygod, does she realize how idiotic she looks?”
I just don’t know.
Anyway, it was nice to walk into the vet’s office. Everything was familiar, the people were warm and welcoming, and my pups are now up-to-date with all their wellness stuff. The rest? Who knows.
