I’m the first to admit it – I get a tad distracted sometimes. On more than one occasion I’ll pull up into the driveway at my house and realize I don’t remember actually driving home because I was too busy thinking of other things (besides driving – which is kind of scary when you think about it). While I pride myself on my ability to multi-task, I often find that I miss entire conversations (and then I end up looking like an idiot when I claim to have no knowledge of what was discussed). Frequently, I’ll be blazing my way through my tasks at work, only to fall prey to an interesting website or blog – I swear I only mean to glance at it, but when I come to my senses again, hours have passed and my coworkers are giving me the evil eye. I’ve been known to go shopping with my daughter and I’ll be chatting up a storm – and then finally look up (usually to see her reaction when I show her a cute shirt or something) – and realize I’ve been talking to a total stranger the entire time. My brilliant reaction – EVERY TIME — is to blurt out, “Oh, YOU’RE not my daughter!” which usually earns me the “You think?” look from said stranger, who now knows more about me than they ever wanted to know. This has happened often enough that you’d think I would have come up with a witty explanation for why I’m carrying on a one-sided conversation with phantom offspring – but no – I always panic and go with the old standby. “Oh, YOU’RE not my daughter!”
I’ve been out sightseeing with Doc, again usually carrying on an animated (on my end anyway) discussion. I will realize that he is not beside me and so I’ll put my arm back and do the “come on” gesture with my hand – which is an invitation for him to hold my hand. When he doesn’t grab my hand right away, I’ll turn around to confront him – full of righteous indignation – only to realize that Doc stopped to take a picture five minutes ago and the person I’ve been giving the “come hither” gesture to is NOT my husband.
I wish I could say that is the worst of it – but then there is Blockbuster. You remember Blockbuster — the video store? We had one just a few blocks from our house and would often visit to rent a DVD before we discovered Tivo and Blockbuster went out of business (I’m not saying that Blockbuster went out of business just because WE discovered Tivo – but then again, you never know). On this particular day, I was browsing the selection of new releases and when Doc came up behind me, I reached back with one hand and rubbed his chest and belly lovingly. I may have tweaked his nipple. I picked up a DVD with the other hand, saying “What do you think of this one?” I turned to get his opinion…and realized that the man I had just groped was NOT my husband – he was a stranger – innocently trying to see the new releases that I was blocking from view. He, appropriately enough, looked somewhat horrified to have been mauled by a sex-crazed, middle-aged, insane woman. His wife, who had witnessed the whole thing, looked as if she was trying to decide if the situation was hilarious or required her to give me a beat down.
My response? “Oh, YOU’RE not my husband!” I really have to come up with a better comeback…because I have a feeling these kinds of things are going to keep happening