It was Tuesday afternoon. I finished work early.
"Score!" I thought. "Whatever shall I do with this unexpected free time?"
My mind immediately turned to beads.
Yes. You read that right. I said beads.
A long and winding road with twists and turns that overlap and intersect beyond even the most imaginative of imaginations yet with a very practical purpose, found me standing (for the second time in as many days) in one of the many aisles at Michael's, completely absorbed in the rapture of columns and rows of beads and bead accessories.
The first time, my sister had been with me. That Tuesday afternoon, I was on my own.
Another woman entered my aisle. I looked up when she spoke.
"Do you know much about this stuff?" she queried, brandishing her handfuls of beads and bead accessories.
"Well. No, not too much," I replied, "Just enough to be dangerous." I smiled.
She tripped my gaydar bigtime. I don't know if I tripped hers. I considered the odds of two dykes ending up in the same Michael's bead aisle at 2:30 on a Tuesday afternoon.
Turns out we were both looking at the same thing, contemplating the same question, puzzling over crimp rings and appropriate sizes. WTF? Again with the odds! She set off to consult a saleswoman and shortly returned to share the answer that was not really an answer at all. Crimp rings sizes remained shrouded in mystery for us both.
Left alone again in my aisle, I shopped on. Movement caught my eye and I glanced up. It wasn't the dyke this time. It was my dear friend Tina, Mistress of All Things Crafty.
I think I blushed. I don't know if she noticed. I felt like a little kid caught with my hand in the cookie jar. I have no idea why. The moment passed. We chatted. She headed off to shop for whatever it was she was shopping for that day and I returned to my scrutiny of beads and bead accessories.
On the way home, I stopped at Starbucks for a venti eggnog latte and spent the rest of the afternoon playing with my beads. Crafting.
What the hell has gotten into me, anyway?