Love In The Land Of Misfits

I’m sure most people feel the need to spiff up a bit when they have to make a grocery run. Then again, I don’t think it’s normal for a person to make a grocery run at 8am – but that’s what we did one morning recently, following a snow day. It was frigid and sunny despite mine and my husband’s reluctant dispositions for weathering the cold after dropping our daughter off at school.

The weather did nothing for our motivation to look spiffy that morning because we both had wanted to stay in and sleep. My husband managed a wrinkled shirt and cargo pants. His buzzed-cut hair smooshed and sticking out in several directions; I glared at him for complaining about it like a preppy high school jock. Sure, he had been a jock in high school (way back when), but he didn’t exactly have a mop of hair. He didn’t get much sympathy from me.

I had on one of my not-so-form-fitting, but comfy hoodies with loose fitting yoga pants. I’d pulled my hair up in a messy array, passing for semi-stylish (if you were back in the 80’s), and I wore white socks with black shoes. Long story short, we looked a mess. But onward we went after dropping daughter off at school, into the land of our local grocer.

We made it out of the store with only the necessities we’d be needing for the remainder of the week. Before we were able to sprint from the door to the truck with our cart and get out of the cold, a friendly journalist stopped us mid-stride.

She smiled. (Too cheerful for a snow day, in my opinion.) But, she was nice and so we shoved our hands into our pockets to listen to what her purpose was for being out in the wretched cold at such an hour.

“Hi. I’m with the local newspaper, and we’re covering a story about the snow day today. Would you mind if I took a photo of the both of you coming out of the store with your groceries?” She asked.

My eyes widened as I looked at the huge camera waiting to capture me looking like a hell-doll in the Land of The Misfits. My husband ran a hand over his mashed hair, holding onto the grocery cart with a Kung-Foo grip.

“Oh, God no! Please don’t,” I said, shaking my head. My husband softly cursed and motioned for me to come on. The journalist’s shoulders slumped a little, and I felt ridiculous because I didn’t contain my outburst. I tried to fix my rude comment in an awkward attempt at reconciliation. It wasn’t her fault we looked like hell.

I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry. I sure hope you find a glamor shot this morning for your article. Thank you for the opportunity, but I guess we’ll have to pass. I hope you have a good day.”

She smiled. “No problem.”

We waved and continued on to the truck, my husband whispering harshly when the journalist was out of ear-shot.

“I can’t believe you said that,” he said.

I frowned.

“Yeah, it was rude. But you have flat hair, and I have white socks on with black pants. But I’m wearing pants today, so that’s something!” I gave him a thumbs up, widening my eyes.

“You’re weird,” he said.

“I know. And you love me that way,” I said, giving him my sweetest smile.

He gave me a sideways glance, his disagreeable hair strange and endeared at the moment, and grinned. “Yes, I do.”

Who would’ve thought we’d find one another in a sea of people and still be together after all these years? Romance for us hasn’t always been chocolate covered fruit, music, and dinners or nights out alone. It’s stealing moments that make us cringe, laugh, and lead to love we’ll only know with one another during the day-to-day stuff.

Since I’m only posting once this week, I’d like to wish everyone a happy Valentine’s Day. Whether it’s a spouse, a partner, a good friend, a close relative, a loveable pet or spending time treating YOU well – I hope your Valentine’s Day is filled with love happiness.

© Laurie Kozlowski 2014-Present All Rights Reserved.