Transplanted Life
Tuesday, August 05, 2003
Today just covered the entire spectrum of weird. I was, as you might imagine, somewhat worried about the shower after the incident with the laundry last night. It'd be easy to say that it's Michelle's body and reputation it she shows up at work dirty and stinky, but you know what they say about how you can't smell your own BO? It apparently doesn't count for me - apparently whatever part of my brain or mind or whatever is in her body is still wired to filter out my own odors. So, if Michelle stinks, be it because of not showering or showering in sewage, it annoys no-one more than me.

This is a roundabout way of pointing out that I didn't trust Michelle's shower, worried that her deodorant wouldn't be enough, and thus I rooted through her medicine cabinet for the perfume. Let me just say right here, right now, that there should be some sort of labelling standard for how powerful the stuff is. I won't say what I did just for the purpose of not sounding like a complete idiot, let's just say Michelle's body smelled like lilacs. All. Freaking. Day.

Work was pretty quiet, although I gather BioSoft's main phone number is one off of a video rental place that specializes in Bollywood musicals. Their web site apparently went up today with a slight typo.

Anyway, after work, I headed to the Galleria to replenish Michelle's underwear supply. It's money I could be spending on, I don't know, food, but Michelle's boobs are big enough to make this a priority. So, first stop after work was Victoria's Secret. They've got nice stuff there, but, yikes, is it pricey. I was heading to Sears when I bumped into Maggie, literally. I was going out, she was coming in, and I just stood there, surprised, and said her name. Of course, she didn't recognize me, and asked if we knew each other. I should have just run off, but I missed her, damn it, so I said we'd met one time at the ballpark. I don't know if she subconsciously knew me, or just was trying to be polite, but she was like "oh yeah, now I recognize you..." "Michelle." "...Michelle!" We talked baseball, mostly, until she pulled something really sheer off the rack. "What do you think? I've got a date Friday, and I think it might just be the night!"

Well, I froze. I seriously hadn't considered the possibility that Mags had moved on, even before I (or my body) had moved to the other side of the country. It was stupid to think she wouldn't, but, man, I'd hoped, even if I wasn't in any position to do anything about it. I told her this guy was a lucky man, and got out of there as quickly as possible.

It's good, I suppose. I mean, things have changed, and I can't very well expect everything else to stand still, or to be able to just act like nothing's happened. And Mags is a great girl; I hope she's happy. It's just sort of an uncomfortable reminder that if she can say she's not the same person she was yesterday, well, where does that leave me?


(And then, I find out that we're talking $15 apiece for a bra, even at a department store! And panties aren't much better. Man, do I miss 3 pairs of briefs for $10. Although I must admit, any feelings of guilt about Kurt paying for everything on the date just vanished)
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