It's A Good Day (but not in a squicky television medical prescription ad kind of way)

It was cold this morning. Don’t mock me, Yankees. In Texas 38 degrees is cold. It’s sweater weather, and as a side effect, I was seriously craving some hot chocolate this morning. So I left my apartment early and drove to QT. When I got there, an employee was cleaning up the coffee/hot chocolate station, taking out the garbage, etc, so I politely stood aside and waited for the employee to finish—no rush or anything. Gradually a little line built up behind me and the moment the employee had finished, we rushed as one large caffeine-deprived mass to the coffee. It was like 6:00 a.m. at Wal Mart the day after Thanksgiving. I was scared for my life.

Anyway, I noticed this man watching me out of the corner of his eye. When he noticed me noticing, he blushed, looked the opposite direction, and appeared to engross himself in reading the ingredients of the dairy creamer packet he was holding. I wondered if there was perhaps something wrong with my appearance. Any toilet paper stuck to my shoe? Nope. Fly undone? Nope. The hair was okay. I actually styled it this morning instead of throwing it in a ponytail and calling it a day. The skin is even okay at the moment—nothing bumpy that would in any way remotely resemble a zit. After the quick self-check, I looked up and again noticed him watching me. He gave me kind of a goofy half-smile and wave and then ambled out of the store.

And then it occurred to me that maybe he thought I was cute. Now see, I’m not unattractive, but I live in Texas, where all the women are really coiffed. I’m not the sort of person who coifs. I wear blue jeans as much as possible and have a long and proud history of making virtually no effort on my hair beyond the basic wash/condition/brush regimen. This isn’t false pride. I’m not a babe. So the thought that maybe some stranger thought I was sort of cute, sort of makes my day.