So there I was, ready to go tutoring. It was a regular Wednesday afternoon, and I was wearing a fairly standard tutoring outfit: capri dress pants, a pink chiffon blouse, and a blazer over the top. I had my big tutoring crate in one hand, and I was walking up the driveway to my client's house.
Then I heard a car driving past. It slowed way down when it saw me, which, as every overly paranoid woman knows, is the universal signal for, "Someone is coming to kill you. There is no other explanation."
I could hear the window roll down, and then a man said, "Hey!"
I stopped and turned. Goodbye, my beautiful life. We had a good run.
It was an older man. He leaned out the window. "Whatever you're selling, we don't want any, so don't even bother! We're the corner house."
Wait. So he's not coming to kill me.
Wait. He think I'm a door-to-door salesperson?
Do I look like a door-to-door salesperson?? Do I dress like one?!? Was it the tutoring crate?
He was waiting for an answer.
"Uh. Okay?" I said. "I won't?" Then he drove off, I went tutoring, and that was that. I spent the rest of the day laughing about this. Apparently I have the appearance and mannerisms of a door-to-door salesperson. It's fine.
And then, just last weekend, I was at a family reunion. Someone I didn't know at all was introducing herself to me.
"So who do you belong to?" she asked. (What a weird question, now that I think about it. What do you mean, who do I belong to? This is the twenty-first century! People don't belong to people! But it's also the eaisest way to ask who you're related to at a big gathering, so....)
"Vickie is my grandma. I'm Lynnanne's daughter," I said.
"Oh, how fun! I married into the family, so I don't know your mom very well, but I have some great memories of the few times we did meet! How is she doing?"
"How is my mom doing?" At this point, there's no way the conversation can end smoothly.
"Yeah - I haven't seen her in forever! How's she doing?"
"Uh," I said. "Dead?"
Of course I should have said something more mature, like "Oh, that's very sweet of you to ask. She actually passed away five years ago." Or maybe I should have just said "she's doing great!" and walked away before it got more awkward. But nope. I had to call it like it is and say dead. Then followed the steps I have memorized by now: the shocked look, the look of horrified embarrassment, followed by the I'msosorrys and the Ihadnoideas and the sharing of an anecdote about my mom. All in all, it was pretty funny. And awkward.
And that's that. The end. I don't like to take myself too seriously around here, and it's a good thing, because my life is pretty awkward sometimes. Try to contain your jealousy. :)