Someone is Talking About Me in a Bar Tonight.

You know what I hate?

I hate when the dog is racing around, all excited, because she hears a jingling of car keys even though she is in the backyard at the time of the jingling and she sails in, all hopeful and excited to 'go' and I really am not planning to 'go' and simply need something from the car, which I now lock, yes, but then I feel obligated, to the dog, yes, because her eyes are wide with excitement, well, wider with excitement and she's racing around grabbing a favorite toy to bring along and shaking the living daylights out of it and so I grab her leash and she's already panting so I tell her to get a drink and then I realize that the sun is pretty bright outside and it's probably too warm for my sweatshirt, so I pull the sweatshirt over my head and inadvertently, everything comes off, and I mean everything because it's still early and certain supportive garments have not yet been strapped on and out of the corner of my eye, I see something moving in the backyard and then I realize that the darned pool guy is standing there (don't they ever knock?) and yes, he's over fifty and so, yes, I have made his day. Week, even.

Yeah. I hate it when that happens.