This morning I was wearing my favorite pair of riding breeches, which happen to be purple plaid. Because of the fact that I had to drive around in the gator this morning and feed horses in the cold weather I was also wearing a pair of camouflage pants for added warmth that I would take off later when I was ready to ride. It was the classic ensemble that any normal person would rightfully insist that they “wouldn’t be caught dead in.”
A short while ago I thought to myself, I really hope someone doesn’t choose this moment to burst in the door with murderous intent. Not for normal reasons like how inconvenient it would be for life as I know it to end just now, but for the mortician’s state of mind. As I write this I have mayonnaise in my hair and yogurt and sprinkles on my face (I’m also still wearing purple plaid pants). I just couldn’t help but think about the confusion that would ensue down at the morgue. And you may think me odd, but the condiments on my head are acctually a sign of thriftiness on my part. Women spend lots of money on hair masks and deep conditioning and facials and spa treatments and such. Mayonnaise and yogurt do wonders for the skin and hair. The sprinkles do nothing. They just happened to be in the yogurt that I was eating and then decided to spread on my face. I like to put sprinkles in my yogurt, it keeps life just that much more exciting. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe morticians enjoy the oddities that they come across. Maybe things like mismatched clothes or condiments turning up in strange places keep their lives interesting. I need to befriend a mortician. In the meantime I shall embrace the strange, and not concern myself with who may or may not be confused by my habits.
No comments:
Post a Comment