(no subject)

So here's me, walking past the Jackson Square T stop this afternoon, with my hands full of grocery bags, most of which are heavy. It's about 80 degrees out and I'm wearing jeans and yesterday's shirt, and sweating, and probably red in the face, and my hair's everywhere except where I want it. And a guy walking the other way carrying something over his shoulder looks at me and says "Pretty lady."

Huh.