I had a pretty busy, productive day today and so I decided to treat myself to some pasta for dinner - Chicken Parmesan from Streets of New York. Yummy and close to home.
I had spent the evening completing up an old furniture refinishing project. I started it before I met SG and just never got around to finishing it (no pun intended). So, I was basically in my grubby short shorts and a tank top - standard grunt work wear for me. Didn't figure there was a need to change just to pick up a take out order, didn't count on their drive through window being broken.
No biggy, I have no problem going inside looking like that. But then I notice the people at the tables staring at me. Kind of pathetic stares, too, and mostly at my legs. Then it hits me - they are at just the right height to be confronted with my most mondo impressive scratch/bruise. All pretty and purple. Considering its location on my upper inner thigh, and factoring in my other visible knocks, I can only imagine the stories they came up with in their dirty little minds.....