whatcha gonna do

I had a scary moment yesterday morning.

I rolled out of bed and realized since we had a shower over the weekend and another one during the beginning of the week, I probably needed to water the flowers on the porch. With the consistent deathly heat we've had, it's no surprise that even with loving care and persistance, my only plants still living are the asparagus ferns and the mint plant.

Anyway, I'm in my pajamas on the porch watering the flowers and I looked up to see a car creeping along the drive that curves past our view. It's just inching along, and I started to wonder why they were just poking around. Then, lo, they started making the curve, and the window went down.

Please don't ask for directions, I thought. It's 6 in the morning and I'm not in the mood to be social. And then I caught something briefly out of the corner of my eye; it was a cop car.

Then it happened. The spotlight hit me. And stayed on me.

I kept watering my flowers in my suspicious Superman pajamas. The light stayed spotting. Without knowing anything else to do, and in true nerd form, I waved. I don't know what cool people do in these circumstances. I thought about raising my galvanized watering can, but decided the glare back would probably not be appreciated. So I just waved, grinning like an idiot.

The light went away, and then he glared at me for a minute from inside the car before inching further down the road. I sighed relief.

The whole scenario played in my head before I finished breakfast: I remembered, and decided that if he had U-turned and knocked on our door, and wanted to come in to talk about why I was watering flowers before the sun came up, it would be hairy scary to say, "No, you sure can't come in without a warrant." I'd do it, but it wouldn't be easy, and I'd probably follow with my Miss Dork America wave because it seemed to work the first time.

Zoloft was definitely impressed. She helped me tell The Hater all about our adventures as he begged for five more minutes in bed. We acted them out, but he lost the story about halfway through because she always insists on a more neoclassical thesbian interpretation to my realistic contemporary vision. She's a hack like that.