Why, I Otta...

We've been living in this house for just over half a year now, and in that time I have probably spoken to my neighbour two, maybe three times, though my mom and brother and sisters have spoken to him a fair bit. So it came as quite a surprise a few Saturdays ago when I was trying to sleep after my night shift to hear a knock on the door. I scrambled into my ratty old sweater, smooshed my hair down and opened the door to my neighbour. He was all clean and bright-eyed. I was bleary-eyed and bra-less. He very nicely asked if I wanted to go for coffee sometime and handed me his phone number. I didn't know he even knew my name let alone whether or not I was date material.

Turns out my sister, Tammy has been spreading the good word about me. She told him I was single, that I cooked all the time, that I love to bake. She told him to come over to supper (without his baseball cap), with flowers, showered, nice clothes and that there would be pie to be had. And me.

Sigh.