With the Grammys coming up on Sunday, I was reminded of something that happened last year - when we weren't living in the bus.
I went to my seamster (well, he's not a seamstress and alterer sounds like he does castrations). There was no parking except right out front in the "no parking" zone. I left my emergency lights blinking, because if I got towed, that's exactly what it would have been and ran in. There's only one try on room and it was occupied -- by a woman talking on her cell phone. And, she didn't seem to be having any emergency. No, she was talking about how she was getting her dress altered. I could feel my blood pressure rising as I waited... and waited... and waited. Finally, little Miss All Important comes out in a rather unimaginatve gown and settles herself in front of the mirror. Now we can get going here. Only... she doesn't know how long she wants the thing. She and the ever-patient Mr. Lai try out various lengths, but the poor dear just can't make up her mind. Finally, she turns to me.
"Do you have an opinion?" She asks. Do I ever. But, to my credit, I simply reply with my own query.
"That depends on what you're wearing it to."
"The Grammys" she informs me with a smirk.
You might think that was the last straw. In fact, it was only the penultimate one. The last straw occured a spit second later as I spied a tow truck lumbering down the lane toward my unsuspecting Saab. So, you'll understand that, as I ran out the door, I gave the only possible appropriate response under the circumstances: "You're wearing THAT to the Grammys?"