Inside. Outside. Upside-down. You just never know what we're up to.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Telltale Signs That I Am Here
An undisclosed (because if I disclosed even her fake name she'd think I thought she was nuts which I don't but you know how that goes) member of the family walked into the living room (aka my bedroom when I'm at the lake) today around three and said in a shocked voice, "I had no idea you were here!"
She does this quite a lot and I am truly at a loss for how to respond. I literally haven't left the grounds since last Wednesday, so I haven't had reason to announce my departure or arrival and announcing "I'm still here!" seems sort of odd. Still, though, I have a tendency to go quiet and I think she interprets that to mean I've left and she is therefore shocked at my return? Don't really know. This has happened enough times that I have had opportunity to test drive several responses to her exclamation and none has hit her quite right, so I'm feeling a bit off.
I started to wonder why it looks like I'm not here (never mind my physical presence). And, in truth, there are only a few signs that I am actually in residence as opposed to being in residence elsewhere.
This is my bed. It doesn't look like much, but you'll usually see it over the end of the sofa when I'm here versus over the foot of Squib's bed.
You'd have to check the closet for this, but there's just no way on God's green earth the black flip flops would ever, I mean EVER, not be in the same house with me. Purple, yeah. Black, nope. (Oh, and there are my toes in the bottom right-hand corner. Those generally come with me, too, but it's already been proven that my physical presence is not a significant enough indicator on its own).
This one is the dead give away. I never ever ever never ever leave the house without my essential oils. Just never. You'll just have to forgive my Ziploc chic, 'cause I'm into the see-through plastic action. Still, those babies travel on the seat next to me or in my backpack within reach. If they're in the house, so am I.
And last, but not least, this can is open. Not a single soul in the house would touch a D.P. but me.
Sadly, with the exception of my pack, that is it. Everything else stays as is. Not a sign to let you know whether I'm coming, going, or somewhere in between. One day I suppose I shall settle down. Sprout my own bedroom. Buy "stuff" and have a closet.