I'm not nuts

Since I have been working outside, staining wood, messing with a car, planting things, I'm a bit messy. Jeans with hole in right knee, rolled up to knees. Tshirt with grease stains. Jeans have grease stains, sawdust, wood stain and dirt on them, overshirt with rolled up sleeves. Stained, too.

I came in a couple of hours ago because it got too blasted hot and muggy to work out in the sun. Himself called and wondered what was for supper. I suggested tuna salad, tater salad and cole slaw. He thought that sounded just fine but I'd need to go get more tuna. That meant a trip to the market.

Since I go there frequently and am well acquainted with many of the other customers and many of the employees, I don't normally worry too much about what I look like. Today, though, I thought I had better change clothes, take a shower and then go.

Today, I thought again.

It will be necessary to go back outside in a couple of hours because I have more things that need to be stained before it rains. (Which it supposed to do this evening.) They need to sit in the sun for an hour or two to let the stain age a bit. (or whatever wood stain does on wood in the sun.)

I would have to be nuts, at least in some people's view, to go to the store in my work clothes.

So be it. I went. In these clothes.

I figured, in actuality or any logical universe, I would have to be nuts to take a shower, change my clothes, run to the store for a quick in-and-out, then come back, change back into these clothes and go back to working outside.

Note to the two VWF in the cute but odd-colored capris, cutie-pie tees, sandals, earrings and makeup: Did it appear to you that I gave a flying f*ck when you looked me up and down, then turned away with disgusted expressions on your faces? You probably figured that out when I smiled broadly at you and chortled a bit as I strode by. Veni Vidi Vici in HyVee.