I've Got Sand In All the Wrong Places Read Online Free Page B

long do I have before I know if I have that reaction?”
    â€œNot long.”
    I thanked him and left paler than before.
    In the freezing rain, with only a fever to keep me warm, I had to walk from the doctor’s office to the pharmacy, then to the grocery store. As I struggled to carry my heavy bags of canned soup, juice, and throat-healing sorbet, I thought:
    This. Is. Really. Hard.
    But I made it home. I took the Tamiflu and waited, eyeing my cat suspiciously.
    I survived.
    Hero Single Lady. Bona Fide New Yorker. Living Cat Owner.
    I got through the flu. All by myself.

 
    With Apologies to Mother Mary
    Lisa
    I’m going to tell you about my most recent development in personal grooming.
    I’ll leave it to you to decide whether it’s good or bad.
    We begin with the basic facts, which are two:
    It’s cold out, and God invented fleece.
    Let’s be real.
    As long as fleece exists, and it’s cold out, it’s hard to understand why anyone would wear anything else.
    Or at least why I would.
    In my own defense, I work at home, so I can get away with anything.
    In other words, there’s no dress code at my workplace, and no one around to fire me.
    On the contrary, I’m always Employee of the Month.
    The only other contenders are the dogs, and my novels are better than theirs.
    Anyway, considering that I have no adult supervision, it was only natural that over time, I would dress down at work. It started with a fleece top and jeans, but pretty soon segued into a fleece top and fleece pants, plus fleece socks and a fleece hat.
    Turns out that fleece is only a gateway drug.
    Next thing you know, you’re snorting lint.
    I have gone from wearing only natural fibers to wearing only fake fibers. And one of my fleece tops is made from recycled water bottles.
    Bottom line, I wear trash.
    But in fairness, can you blame me?
    What would you do if every day were Casual Friday?
    A philosopher once said that the test of a man’s character is what he does when no one is watching. But what about what he wears when no one is watching?
    Or she?
    Girls can be slobs, too.
    That’s what equal rights are all about.
    Of course, it goes without saying that I’m braless.
    As Daughter Francesca always says, Home Is Where the Bra Comes Off.
    She’s my favorite philosopher.
    Still, she teases me when I’m wearing my all-fleece ensemble, which she calls my teddy-bear clothes.
    I’m fine with that.
    I think I look huggable.
    Oddly, no one is dating me, but I’m sure this is unrelated.
    Which brings me to my current point, because in the old days, meaning last week, if I had to go to the store, or to the movies, or in public for any reason, I would change out of my teddy-bear clothes and put on jeans and a sweater, or something more presentable.
    I figured that was what you were supposed to do.
    It was like some line you should not cross, like a sound barrier of personal grooming.
    I think I may have learned this from Mother Mary, who never liked my teddy-bear clothes. She always used to say, “You look like nobody cares.”
    To which I had no reply.
    So you know where this is going.
    Last Saturday night, I was getting ready to meet my best friend Franca at the movies, and I was about to change out of my teddy-bear clothes and into my normal clothes, when I stopped myself.
    What was the point?
    It was freezing outside, and my normal clothes weren’t as warm.
    Also, we were going to the movies, where it was dark.
    Plus, I usually keep my coat on at the movies, and my coat is knee length, so there was no chance anybody could see my clothes.
    Finally, there are no single men left in the world, and even if there are, I wasn’t going to run into them at the movies, because I never, ever have.
    So I thought to myself:
    GO FOR IT!
    And I went to the movies in my teddy-bear clothes.
    Braless.
    I kept my coat on at first, but after a while, I took it off.
    And you know what