The closer I get to 40...the more laps I have to take around the block when the firefighters are outside the station doing firefighter things in shirts...or not in shirts.
The closer I get to 40...the more excuses I come up with for having coffee near the university campus so I can enjoy the college boys out for a late morning run. (Try it sometime. Trust me.)
The closer I get to 40...the quicker my head snaps around to my side mirror when I drive by a young man working outside wearing jeans and work boots with nothing under his orange safety vest.
What is wrong with me?
I am blaming evolution. When I was young and cute and could afford to be choosy, it was always the "good provider" thing that turned my head and kept it turned. The "good breeder" thing never held a lot of my attention. But as I am moving closer and closer to those last few ova, my chemistry is doing funny things to my, um, chemistry.
Anyway, did you ever even suspect that such a thing exists as a fit, young Air Force firefighter in a jumpsuit with a shaved head, Ray-Bans, and a Southern accent? I would tell you where to find him, but I am afraid that information is classified.
No comments:
Post a Comment