Nobody can doubt that SwampMan has a lot of physical courage. For example, just yesterday evening, as we got out of his truck to go into a restaurant, he casually commented “You know, your hair looks like SHIT!” and laughed. What can I say. You have to actually HAVE hair for it to look like shit. AND we’d just gotten back from dropping the kids off at their house over toward the intercoastal waterway in Jax. And SwampMan’s A/C in his truck is on strike.
I’ve been wearing baggy pants, capris, and shorts to deal with the humidity and heat with the result that my legs are getting rubbed raw from the wet fabric. I threw a load of clothing into the washer this morning and went out to ask SwampMan if he thought my tight leggings and a long T-shirt looked okay to wear to the grocery store, or whether I was too fat to wear that. Somewhere in the recesses of SwampMan’s reptillian brain there must have been dim whisperings of “DANGER! There be DRAGONS!” because his face started going through contortions as he tried to figure out what to say. His eyes widened. His eyebrows raised. His lips moved without saying anything, then he stuttered. He finally came out with “I don’t like those pants on ANYBODY outside the house. But maybe with a different shirt.”
Poor SwampMan. I’m supposed to be helping him build a rocking chair today, and I’m going to be really late waiting for those clothes to line dry (grin) so that I can run to the grocery store before I go to “work”.
*sigh* I really do need to go on that diet and exercise program.