You Gotta Dog

I leave my house at 6 pm to go to work. My husband blows in the door from his day at 4:45pm, I say a quick hi to him, start dinner, get my 3 sons settled, lay out homework and shout instructions for the night. I call this The Witching Hour. It’s hectic and little boys are loud. I blow out the door and on any given day stop by my neighborhood gas station for my tri-weekly fill up.

I like to go inside grab a bottled water or an o.j. and prepay for my gas so I can leave with only one receipt in my wallet. Gas Station Guy is always at the register; he has worked there forever and a day. We have a rapport. I walk in, say ‘What’s up”, smile really big, grab my drink and pay.

He's a flirt and I am going through my “I am 38 when did that happen”? life-crisis. He is all flirt, not a lot of talk and this totally strokes my ego. I know on the days when I actually hot iron my hair and perfect the make-up that he has an extra big smile for me.

So the other day I’m paying and Gas Station Guy goes “You have a dog?” I spin my head in a 360 and try to peer across the lot into my car thinking ‘dog?, did my dog jump in my car during the witching hour and I did not notice’? My expression is saying “I don’t see a dog in my car’. I mumble “yeah, I have a dog’. Gas Station Guy says “yeah, I see the dog hair all over your shirt”.

That was a blow to my stroking needing ego. I left thinking how rude to say that to a lady. Then I thought – well he IS foreign. Then I decided I didn't have it goin' on that day, but my hair looked good and I had on my fall color lipstick. Ode to the dog hair. So I came to realize that I don’t prepay for my gas to leave with one receipt. I prepay for a little me time, a little winding down time after the witching hour. I have not been back inside this week. It is fall. I am wearing dark colors and my dog is a super shedding jack russell. The proof is on the shirt.