how strange. it was christmas two days ago and today it's not. and yesterday wasn't either. i mean, i know christmas happened. at my house, there is still a tree strung with lights and ornaments; the holiday display is still up at the front of my shop; the pile of christmas cards have officially become victims of my indecision. . . but it's like christmas vanished. all of those weeks and months of preparation for it to be all over in a blink. i wonder if that's how people feel the day after they get married. six months and fifty grand later. . .
i have at least two volumes of thoughts on it (don't get me wrong, christmas for me was so memorable and resonant) but i don't feel like sharing, mostly because i think it might turn into a diatribe.
so, instead, i will write about how i have a fear of being perceived as a pervert.
at my shop, if you've never seen it, is a perfect rectangle. the "sellable space" is in the front and the storage/office and dressing rooms are in the back. the office and first dressing room (dressing room A) are separated by a wall, but it's not closed off at the top, so you can pretty much hear everything, whether you are a patron or an employee.
it always seems to happen that i have to fetch something in the back when a customer goes into dressing room A. i have this fear that someone will think that it is "more than coincidence" that i have to go into the back just as they are disrobing. don't make me describe what i mean by the quotes (yeah, like closed circuit tvs, discreetly placed holes like in scooby doo, the whole deal).
so what i end up doing is being very pronounced in my actions - if i have to get a file, i exert a little bit more force pulling the drawer open so that the files flap against each other. if i have to pull a size or style from the rack, i do random things like whistle or make rustling noises so to communicate that i am not trying to be sneaky in anyway.
exhibit deux: yesterday, i was in austin with PCH and his family. i noticed all day long that his youngest brother had a rather long thread hanging from his basketball jersey. when i first saw it, my thought was just to walk over and cut it off for him. and then i thought that maybe he would think that maybe i was trying to be inappropriate in some way so i resisted. five hours later, i couldn't take it anymore and just walked up to him and tried to be "cool" about it. hilarious!!
does anyone else share this paranoia (if you are a certified, card carrying pervert, i would probably prefer not to hear about your experiences. . .)?
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