Our pest control guy, Joe, comes to the house quarterly.  It’s a toss-up as to who ends up being at home to tolerate be here when he’s here.  We practically flip a coin.  Although, since I am usually the one scheduling home maintenance things, I schedule it on Mondays, the Beloved’s day off the day most likely to be least busy for vendors. 

So anyway, last week, Joe comes to the house and this guy, let me tell you, this guy takes 36,243 words to say “I’m doing well, thanks.”  He is so sweet, but seriously, I don’t have three hours and two pots of coffee to hear him out. 

Anyway, I get trapped in the kitchen and he says:

“I was at Alma Latina (a local dive) the other day and I had to do a double-take because I swear it was you I was looking at.” 

“Oh, really?  Definitely not.  Never been there” I say.

Well, because I was sitting down and I made eye-contact with this woman that I thought was you, and she kept looking at me, and so I had some more menudo and looked up and she just looked and looked. 

“I wouldn’t have stared at you,” I say.

“It was amazing how much I thought it was you.  And I got a good look because her husband had his back towards me.  But she had longer hair, like to the middle of her back.  And she had it in that ‘wet look’.  And they had this 2 year old with them that was being so cute.”

Hope they’re paying Joe enough for vision care. 

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