lest you think i'm nice...

some of your sweetheart comments worry me every so often, and i think now is one of those times where i should remind you that i am not very nice. not really. at. all.

here. i'll prove it.

a few weeks ago, it was raining and i was wearing a cool dress and silly-cute shoes. my office windows look out onto the forest in back of my house, which means i see my share and probably yours, too, of foxes and raccoons and deer and cute golfer boys and even baby couples trying to steal away for a make-out.

i let coco interrupt the golfers, but i tend to leave the kissing bandits alone. making out should be encouraged, don't you think?

well. back to a few weeks ago. we have these neighbors from iraq. they're lovely. but the grandmother is suffering from some sort of dementia. is that the right word? when you regress back to your childhood?

anyway. i saw her back in the woods, running in the rain from something forever ago, probably. and she tripped in the thorns. i know there are thorns because uncle sugar and i take that shortcut to get to the real paths back there. when we're going to make-out. i mean, hike.

if i'm being honest? {and here's where the people who know me in real life cringe and yell at their monitors "do NOT be honest, karey! we already KNOW you're not a nice person! don't ruin it for your readers!}




ugh. here goes.

if i'm being honest, my first thought was not to jump up and help her. my first thought was more like a resigned sigh. like a dang it! not what i needed right now. at. all.

i take that back. my first thought was straight back to the night before when i said something or other to uncle sugar and he narrowed his eyes and shook his head at me and said "you're not a very nice person right now." i added the right now so it wouldn't sound so...forever permanent.

i said i most certainly was a nice person and that a number of people who don't know me think so, too, but that guy was not budging from his statement.

anyway. fifty percent of why i went out to help that grandmother was because i was trying to prove to myself that i am, in fact, a nice person. which really means i am not one. at. all.




it's funny. the only arabic word i really remember is habibiti. it kind of means my baby. my love. i kept saying it over and over to her while i was trying to untangle her.

then i delivered her home and yelled at her still-sleeping grandson and clicked my tongue at him for not locking the door and for allowing his grandmother to walk out in the rain in the cold forest like a dog. he said it was very nice of me to have rescued her.

and i wanted to tell him about my cool dress and silly-cute shoes and how i really hate helping people in the rain in the forest in the mud in the thorns when i look cute and what uncle sugar had said about me and what i honestly deep-down know about me, but i just said thank you. and then i came home and got all weepy for that poor poor old woman.

a little later, i called pat at work to tell him what had just happened. after cooing about the poor poor old woman and clicking his tongue at that grandson, he asked if i was okay. i said yes, of course. it was just sad.




before he hung up, he said "you were going to pretend you didn't see her, weren't you?" and i gulped and said yes. and i could feel him smile.

"see? i was right. you're not a nice person."

but it actually sounded a lot nicer than that.

oh, the things i tell you people. it makes me giggle. so...we're agreed. no more comments about how nice i am, ok? there. i feel better now. xoxo. the first four things that made me smile on pinterest today, in no particular order: here, here, here and here.