On Monday, I was downtown, checking out the new Goodwill store (it’s a sad statement on the state of the town when everybody is all excited about a new, more “upscale” second hand store like Goodwill.) I had ridden my bike down there. My bike has a bookrack on the back, and saddle baskets; it’s pretty neato-keen. As I was walking out of the store I accidentally bumped into this middle aged, not-all-there guy who was just hangin’ out outside the Goodwill. I apologize for running into him, he says no problem, and I walk over to my bike. As I deposit my purse in my bike basket, the guy calls out to me, “Hey! You’ve got a nice rack!” It’s a sad statement on the state of my own life that I didn’t for a second think he actually meant anything other than my bike. I laugh and say “thanks” – it’s not often that I get compliments on my rack. His expression is completely innocent, and I doubt he realized the innuendo of his words. “I’ll bet you can haul alotta of stuff in that!” He says, and I just smile and nod and pedal off, beaming and giggling over the fact that I’ve got a nice rack.
On Tuesday, I had my last ceramics class of the semester, and all the students had a bunch of pots and things we had to clear out of the studio, so after class we used old boxes that clay had come to carry our wares, and went on our way. A little while after class I unexpectedly ran into a classmate who was carrying the same kind of blue-and-white raku clay box that I was. We grin when we see each other, and she yells to me across a parking lot, “Nice box!” “You too!” I yell back. There are a group of about 10 people gathered around a car having a conversation and they all turn to investigate, and are visibly disappointed to see exactly what kind of box we were talking about.
Today I think I might go to the grocery store and buy some cantaloupes, and maybe someone will compliment me on my melons. And maybe on my way there I’ll be petting a stray cat, and someone will ask if they can stroke my pussy.