Yesterday, I unpacked my fun little overnight bag. I came across 'THE DRESS." And oh, it made me so sad. I took it out, hung it up, took angsty little artsy pictures of it, then sank down against the washing machine and cried like a stupid little bitch done wrong in a bad soap opera. I mean great big, soul - shaking cryin' like you did when Little Anne dies in "Where The Red Fern Grows." (Fess up, peeps. Ya'll KNOW you wailed like little babies when you saw that scene.)
Neighbor Dave came out in the middle of all this. Imagine the poor guy coming out to his laundry room to find a sobbing woman sitting on his nasty garage floor clutching a delicate little silk dress. What the HELL?!?
"Hey." He knelt down, keeping a respectable distance from me.
"Well, , wahahahahaha, whhhhhaaaaa," I replied in that funny out of breath, hiccupy voice ya get
during cry talking.
I won't bore you with deets, but Davey soon understood (really, I think he just PRETENDED to understand) the significance of the dress, blaa, blah, bleh bleh. He looked surprised when I ended my story by blowing a bucket full of snot and tears all over the beautiful dress, folding it up and placing it in the little fancy bag it came in when I purchased it. I walked over, opened up the trash can and gently placed it on top, closing the lid with a thud. Crying jag #2 started in 5, 4, 3, 2.........
Davey waited until I finished and then asked the logical, unemotional, burning MAN question. "WHY are you throwing the dress away? It's a perfectly good dress. It's beautiful."
I couldn't explain. Keeping the dress would mean looking at it hanging in my closet and each time the mere sight of it would evoke memories I'm trying hard to forget- like how beautiful I felt each time I wore it. It's a chick thing, boys. You just won't get it. Don't expect ya too.
I grabbed my keys and purse and asked him to drive me to CVS. "I need some sunscreen." This was also hilarious since it was raining and gray outside. But he drove me there and waited in the car.
Oh, CVS. Really? Your muzak on a good day sucks. On a "Throw away THE DRESS rainy Sunday," it makes you want to plunk yourself down in the aisle with the Oreos on the shelf, rip them open, eat a dozen and then wash it down with whatever $5.99 + CRV case of beer you're encouraging us to swill for the week. I bought my sunscreen and ran back to the car as fast as my little legs could go.
When we pulled into the drive, Davey STILL wanted to argue the case against throwing the dress away, I could tell. He paused and glanced towards the trash can, giving me a quizzical look as we passed it. But he's pretty damn smart. He knew not to go there. We spent the rest of the day watching NBA games.
Later in the evening , I left for home. As I walked out of his house, I saw glowing little tea light candles left over from his Halloween party placed on top of the trash can. The sight of the pretty candles on top of the industrial green trash can looked ridiculous. Davey followed behind me looking sheepish.
"The dress needed a ceremony," he joked.
"Right. But I should have covered myself with tribal designs made from sunscreen, dunked
Oreos in PBR and danced naked in a circle to Hall and Oates."
