The Capitol Hillbillies

Yesterday, I was determined that no matter what, I was going to have a pajama day. I got up, finished reading a GREAT book, sat around in my PJ's for a while, scrounged up some lunch, and cleaned the house, all in my pajamas. I even met several Freecyclers in my PJ's, one of whom showed up in HER PJ's...

My PJ's consisted of a blue nightgown with little pink flowers on it, and a pair of gray sweatpants with paint splatters for entertaining my freecycling visitors.

Then I decided I should figure out about the General's shower curtain, which I had heard reports of as being extraordinarily nasty. I must say, the reports were grossly under-represented. It was pukifyingly gross.

I threw it in the washing machine with some bleach, set it on the cold cycle, and when I pulled it out, it had a gigantic hole in the middle of it. The General would be needing a new shower curtain.

So, I pulled a red, blue, and yellow plaid coat on over my blue floral night gown and gray sweatpants with paint splatters, wrapped a bright rainbow scarf around my neck, threw on the closest pair of shoes to the door, which happened to be my good black work shoes with happy silver buckles, and headed for Walmart. Really, I didn't think much of it. All I thought was "comfort, comfort, comfort." But I started getting some strange looks in the store. Looks that either said, "Someone give this poor woman a $20 so she can clean up and get a hot meal" or "Someone let the inmate out of the asylum."

So I hightailed it home with the new shower curtain, and then decided I'd head for Judy's so that we could take some clothes to the Goodwill bin, since she and I had both done a major clean out of our closets/dressers/etc. I arrived in Alexandria, and she came out to let me into the garage.

We headed back to her apartment to load up, and Joe said he'd come help since he'd been in the house all day and wanted to go for a ride. But first he commented on my lovely ensemble. :-)

We loaded up two big bags and a box, and headed for the Safeway where the Goodwill Box was located.

As we pulled up, we saw a woman of indeterminate national origin standing at the Goodwill box, going through everything. It appeared to me that perhaps someone was actually IN the box helping her get stuff out.

So I was slightly concerned. But I roared up to the curb--I was kind of feeling my oats--and jumped out and Judy threw her door open (she was wedged between the big box and the front seat), and Joe threw his door open. I hopped out and asked Joe rather loudly, "Hey, is someone in that box?!" The woman starts looking at us, rather nervously.

Joe hits the pavement wearing a dark blue shirt, plaid pants, and pink fuzzy slippers. He giggles nervously and asks, "What should we do?" Judy immediately screams, "Get me the hell out of this car!!!"

So Joe starts wrestling with the box, and it pops free, and Judy just about falls onto the sidewalk, wearing her footie pajamas, her DIA jacket, and her hair in wild disarray flying every which way around her head. She's about hyperventilating now that her lungs are free to expand, and Joe and I are nervously sizing up the woman at the Goodwill box, who is nervously sizing us up, particularly Judy who is sporting an official looking jacket with a federal government seal.

"What should we do?" Joe asks again.

"I don't know," I reply, "I really think there's someone in that box. Do you think they work for the Goodwill?"

Finally Judy takes the lead, and starts hurling our bags of clothing in the general direction of the box. Joe moves the box of clothes slightly closer, while this poor woman stands there debating if we're going to nab her for larceny of the Goodwill box, and I, in what can only be described as some sort of hallucinatory state, stand and stare into the Goodwill box, trying to determine if the Oompa Loompas are actually in there.

Joe and Judy finishing pushing the clothes up as close to the bin as they dare to get, and I smile in what I hope is a friendly manner to the poor woman who hasn't dared to breathe since we arrived on the scene.

"Well, I guess that's about it. There's no one in the box."

We all hop in the car and roar off into the night.

When we get home, we sized up our appearance and about fell over laughing. That was one donation that poor woman is not likely to forget.