This made me laugh. I really didn’t want to laugh, it’s my Sunday, give me a little time before making me laugh.
Preparing my coffee and heading outside to let Maggie run around a bit, there’s a 6’4” man on my balcony. This doesn’t happen every day. Is he heaven sent, an answered prayer? Or is he an undercover brother? ( There is a story here...I will share another time.) Well, hello trouble...Is he simply restarting the router, as suggested? Which ever story I decide to tell, I’m looking rough - pineapple hair, dirty Army T, pajama pants, and a big cup of get yo stuff together Deb. I didn’t frighten him, he was Chatty Cathy. So we talked. I lied to him to make him happy, told him how thankful all of Hoback is because he showed up. (We’d talked about how thankless his job is, people generally want to get back to the computer, don’t let the door hit you on the way out kind of attitude.) So, I gushed with praise for the man, lying to him, making him laugh. I didn’t tell him the last man to come up my stairs I’d threatened to throw off the balcony.
He was from Texas. I didn’t ask. He volunteered.
Maybe God is depositing them at my door since my introverted self stays home, or on a mountain.
Please don’t make me adult today. I don't wanna clean house or wash clothes. Whine, whine, whine.
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