Circle, circle, dot, dot…

Awww...how sweet! You're back again! Hope you enjoy your visit with the Peapod Squad!

I think I need a cootie shot.

We took the kids to a local arts/crafts festival this morning. We’d had a great (albeit HOT as blazes) morning there and decided it was time to head home. Mom whispered in my ear that Dad had been eying a mailbox that was decorated for his favorite college football team. I left Hubby with the peapod squad wagon and went back to the mailbox vendor to buy a Father’s Day gift for my dad. The guy working the booth was nice enough. I gave him the money (which was, by the way, $5 more than he’d quoted my parents when they were looking at the mailbox…grr) and then he pulled out a wad of tissue, told me to "hold still, honey" and proceeded to wipe something off my front tooth. I’m throwing up a tiny bit in my mouth just remembering the experience. It all happened so fast. And yet it felt like it was happening in slow-motion. As I stood there stunned, grossed-out, and a bit in shock…the dude said, "You’re way too pretty to have something messing up your smile." OK, so for a moment I just savored the compliment. Awww, he said I was pretty. Isn’t that sweet? But snap back to reality. Ewww…he put that tissue in my mouth! I have NO idea where that tissue had been. Nasty! Then he hugged me. Yep. I’ve never seen this man before in my whole life. I’m not a hugger anyway. Just ask my friends. I like my personal space.  And here’s a thought…If he really thought I was sweeter than honey pie, why didn’t he just give me a better deal on the doggone mailbox?!?

Why, for the love of all that is clean, would ANYONE even THINK of putting something in a stranger’s mouth? Why did it have to be my mouth? Me. The germaphobe. Can I just tell you how disgusted I was? I used some anti-bacterial hand gel (you know I always have some of that handy) on my tooth! And I brushed my teeth and gargled some Listerine when I got home. And I still sit here feeling like I might gag if I think about it anymore. So, I’m done. We never speak of this again. OK?

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