I was beginning to think my days of being included in the "attractive" and sometimes, even "Hot" category were totally over. Until this morning. I had to take AVery to school this a.m. and usually, I go in sweats, no makeup and a ball cap if my hair is extremely unruly. But this morning, since I have several things going on today, I showered, put on a bit of makeup and coordinated my clothing. I wore the general housewife garb...yoga pants, a tank and a sweatshirt...looks like you just worked out, but in reality, the outfit is a bit too nice to think of sweating in it. You know, that whole I-don't-care-how-I-look-but-I-spent-20 minutes-figuring-it-out outfit.
Anyway, I look decent today. And guess what? Someone flirted with me! Actually FLIRTED. I saw a really pretty house with a For Sale sign out front across from Avery's school and, out of curiosity, stopped to get a flyer to see the price. Two young, adorable in a blue collar way, city maintenance workers were standing outside the house. (I promise this isn't why I stopped. I didn't even notice that they were cute at first.)
As I got out of the car, one of them (the cutest one) said "Well, how much is the house?"
Me: "Is it a bad sign if it doesn't say how much?"
Cute worker guy: "I think so, but you look like you can afford it."
Me: "Really? That's funny because I don't have a job."
Cute worker guy: "Yeah, I can tell that too...and we could use more of your type in this area."
Me: (adorably flirtatious laughter) Oh, you are funny...sweet, but funny.
*Rhett begins to scream from the car and reality hits.*
Me: I gotta run ...one of my three children is screaming at me.
Cute worker guy: You have three kids? Whoa (The other guy says something to him that I can't hear. I like to think it was "She's way too fine to have three kids.")
Me: Yeah, whoa is right.
Cute worker guy: You come back anytime, ok?
Me: (More giddy, silly laughter)
I get in the car and drive away before I can embarrass myself any further. I know it is desperate and stupid to grin like an idiot because a 25-year-old street worker flirted with me, but dangit, it feels good to be noticed. When you spend your days covered in spit-up and smelling of milk and poop, a brief moment of youth and hotness is a moment of sheer joy.