One Hundred Dollars a Month

 

That Mrs. Hillbilly.

We went for a walk around the harbor the other day for like the first time in 3 {maybe 4?} weeks? First we didn’t walk because her mother was in town, then it was because I was out of town, then her sister was in town, then she had a busy work week {I think, or maybe she just needed a week off from all the crazyness}.

Anywho, as we walked on our 4 mile loop she mentioned she hadn’t had breakfast yet, I may have said I was craving tea a few times, and towards the end of our walk she said she didn’t want to go home, that she wished we could prolong the outing so she didn’t have to go home and work, or do laundry and all those other little things that must be done but can totally be put off for another day.

So we ended up at one of our favorite spots. The NetShed. I ordered a pot of breakfast tea.

She ordered an iced tea. Which you know, seems totally reasonable at 9 in the morning on a 50 degree day if you’re from the South.

And then, because we’ve been friends for 11+ years  I can’t help point out the obvious {it’s a sickness I tell you} while we wait for our food.

You know, things like why do we always seem to end up looking like we’ve wandered out of the woods or something on our walks? Mrs. HB had {wood} smoke holes and paint stains on her clothing and was wearing thermal underwear {like the kind you get at Costco} that she’s always trying to pull off as stretch pants {THEY ARE NOT STRETCH PANTS!!!}

I can say that because we are friends. Just like she can tell me the peach fuzz on the side of my face is glistening in the sun and I need to shave it off already {NEVER!!!} Or that my pants are way to short and I need to pull them down so it doesn’t look like I’m walking around with high waters on. Then their was the whole discussion of my choice of shoes {no arch support!}

She can blurt out things like my closet is ridiculous and I need to post a picture of it on the blog because it’s not normal. I am not normal.  Normal people do not use less than half of a closet she tells me. Normal peoples closets are filled with clothes.

I can take a picture of something in her car and then she’ll be like WHAT!? What now? What do you see? And I’m like… you don’t see anything unusual?

Like the used dental pick sitting casually in your center console? Who does that? Who is practicing dental hygiene while they’re driving? And not only that, c’mon now, why would you leave a used dental pick in your car? Aren’t they suppose to be disposable? Is it really that hard to floss at home? How many times are you reusing this? How long has it been sitting in your car? And seriously, whatever happened to just using floss?

Why do I even notice these things? It’s like I have a hyper sensitivity to any and everything I deem out of the ordinary. And not only that, if I don’t point it out to the person I feel like I am going to burst.

I immediately check for lip balm. There were only 3 this time. {Miracles do happen!}

And then Mrs. HB whips out her lipstick and demands I take a photo of it and share. She’s trying hard people, to use up every last bit.

And then we talk about how good the vanilla pear french toast we had for breakfast was.

Like so good you want to lick your plate and you insist on telling the waitress the restaurant needs to bottle it up and sell the recipe as body lotion {or lip balm} kind of good.

So ya. Licking plates and arguments over dental picks. You know, just another day with my trouble making, up for anything, they look like stretch pants {no they don’t} friend.

Have a wonderful Wednesday everyone,

~Mavis

“Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.” – Marcel Proust