[fauxgypsy]

After all my complaining today about missing a boob, I was cooking supper tonight, in some clothes that I had worn in my studio today. An oversized bright yellow t-shirt with paint all over it, a pair of pink jogging pants that I truly hate and am using to paint in. I am not a pink jogging suit person (my step-mother bought me these). I washed my hair this morning but did not style it and my wonderful chemo curls are almost gone. I did not have my boob on. My house is a mess, we are in the early stages of remodeling and I have stuff setting all over the living room. We live in rural area and I wasn't expecting to see anyone. There is a knock on the door. It is a real estate agent. A real estate agent looking for me, or rather my alter ego, the usually professional looking faux finisher. I had changed my phone number, undoubtedly she does not understand email (if she had my address, then she had a business card, it follows that there was an email address on it. I can't imagine any other way she could have gotten my address.) I was at the door brandishing a pair of tongs, she came in, the cat came in. One of her clients had added something to a house that I had done work at and they need me to make it look the same. So, I turned dinner off and took her down to my studio. Only to find out that she is a member of the same Artist Guild that I am in. We were at the same meeting two weeks ago. She kept saying that she didn't remember seeing me there. I wonder if it had anything to do with the fact that today I looked like a lopsided, demented easter egg. Anyway, it turned out okay, I guess, she loved my studio, and my work.