I missed him yesterday - literally by the few seconds that I took to find my purse and try and get mom to move off the doorstep - so today I was sitting on the step from the time I heard the first chimes. (Which was about twenty minutes before he actually showed up, he does the other streets near us first.)
I looked cute. My hair was behaving. I had on a nice sundress. No makeup, since it melts in this weather, but I looked alright without it, despite the mozzie bites on my right cheek. I smelled like satsuma from the bath and Ann Summers' Ravish.
Did I mention I have a ridiculous crush on this man? I've no idea if he's married / in a relationship / gay, but from the greeting he gave me the first time I met him - when I was wearing a bikini and a see-through black beach coverup, with bare legs - I'd hazard a guess that he's none of those. I hope.
So I walked up the street and ordered an orange lolly for mom, and I was just in the process of ordering a 99 Flake for me - and then guess what?
I freaking flashed him.
Yes, the wind chose that moment to whip my dress up over my head. The wind that's been pretty dormant all day.
I probably should have learned my lesson with this dress, because I'm now flashing - hah - back to the first time I wore it. It was in May two years ago, and I'd just had dinner with my Japanese class, and was walking out of the Galleria with Dominic and Ayumi and a gust of previously nonexistent wind came up and whooshed the chiffon skirt way up, although not quite over my head like this time. Funny, I'd blocked that out of my mind until now.
Skirt is out of shot, defeating the point of this pic. Oh well.
So what did I do? I said, "Whoops, sorry about that. I'd like a small cone with a Flake, please. Sure, sauce. Which one? Oh, bubblegum, I guess." I was very composed. You'd have been proud of me. Until he went to give me my change and I accidentally (again) stroked his fingers.
Sigh.
This (British, since it's coming up soon) Thanksgiving, I shall be thankful for underpants.
