temper-ature tantrums

When I write my new book, that's what I'm calling it. "Temper-ature tantrums" AND I CALL COMSIE BACKSIES.

Today, the weather warmed to 20 degrees and suddenly I couldn't drive without rolling down my windows. It was like god wanted me to practice for my week of Mexi-Go crazy. The temps got me so excited, I practically flashed neighboring motorists because I knew I could do it and my baby-feeders wouldn't freeze.

But although the weather warmed, local brain cells didn't.

As I left the cop shop today (my newest meet-market... for meeting men, you know) a gentleman no taller, no older and no acquaintance of mine said he'd seen me before.

Mind you, I had JUST passed him. Like, said excuse me, fumbled for my keys and went about my business. I turned my head, reached for my door handle and...

"HEY. I seen you at that spaghetti supper."

Yes, "seen you." That's how you know he's local.

Uh... the one for the Humane Society, I said? Two weeks ago?

Yea.

Excuse me but, did I have something stuck in my teeth that night? Had my hair fallen flat? Was it my abnormally green coat(s)? No, it couldn't be... I know, it was my middle toe's stature compare to my big one, wasn't it? I knew that would get me in trouble. How embarrassing. But more importantly...

How does a dude look at a lady for one second and remember exactly where he last saw her?

I didn't stick around to know the answer.

As I was leaving, I double checked the signage. I meant to drive to the police station, but maybe I'd wound up at the state hospital instead...