What was I thinking?

Saturday morning. Sleeping in time. Or NOT.

Jared wanted to show me his love for me by waking me up to make sure I could enjoy the sunrise with him. Normally he sleeps until his bus arrives, but on Saturday, he is COMPELLED to wake up at the crack of dawn . . . and babble and coo until I get up.

Gypsy yawned and padded down the hall behind me after I closed the bedroom door so Rick could enjoy his sleep on his day off. Then, light a streak of black lightening, Gypsy roared past and out the dog door to try and intimidate the 2 men who were surveying the lot next to us. Wonder if they are selling it? Maybe we will have neighbors? Or a parking area? Or more old people? Who knows?

Curiosity killed the cat and in this case my reputation as being the proud possessor of one brain cell.

I walked out onto our carport and said "Hey, inquiring minds want to know - what're y'all surveying for?" The impetus being that they were in MY yard by this point, so I wanted to know if I was about to be moved without my notice or disposessed of a few feet of yard.

The cigarette dangling from the young man's mouth barely moved as he told me they were making a topographic review of the area.

Oh sure.

I believe that junior. You'd not get much of a topo map from a flat L-shaped piece of ground that is about 3 acres give or take. And who would WANT a map of that tiny speck of ground? In the middle of a neighborhood, it is singularly desolate and has only some scrubby pines on the back part of the lot.

A bemused look was on his face when I told him "thanks" and headed back in.

Then I realized WHY he was smiling.

I was in my pajamas. OH HOLY COW!! How could I be so damn stupid???? No, don't answer that, it was rhetorical. (And yes, I DO know what rhetorical means!)

My pajamas are not ready for prime time. Faded, blue plaid, nubbly flannel pj pants that have seen better days, but dang it, they are comfortable, a t-shirt with a hole directly over the right boob from having given blood with a Jimmy Buffet Parrothead theme on it (don't ask me why blood donations and Buffet go together, it was just a cool shirt!) and a fine set of mismatched sox and no shoes. I seldom wear shoes anyway.

Then the reality set in.

That young man now goes home full believing that he was measuring that particular plot of ground for a new long term care facility for those with senile dementia and he has just met the first resident.

I couldn't have showered, dressed in something decent and gone out to offer them something cool to drink and made erudite conversation.

Oh no.

I had to show them act two of the redneck three ring circus. I would have made a good poster child for the evening news where they always seem to find the most ignorant, inbred, hickified redneck to offer their opinion on some sort of newsworthy event.

All I required to complete the tableau was a missing left front tooth. Thanks to cosmetic dentistry, I still have one.

It was a near miss of redneck perfection that would have cemented me in the annals of history.

But I have an orthodontically corrected smile with all of my front teeth right there handy.

Too bad.

My actions could have been excused if I were a redneck.

Isn't that the lyric from a song . . . from a musical . . . "Redneck on the Roof"

"If I were a redneck, deedle, deedle, deedle, deedle, deedle deedle deedle dum..."