A peppy saleslady came to the door today.
“You’ll remember me from last year! I bring the TuffStuff", she said, pulling an unidentifiable spray bottle out of an unidentifiable pouch.
”Actually, I don’t,” I replied honestly.
”That’s ok,” she continued, without missing a beat as she segued into a demo of how she could scribble blue ink onto her washcloth, then spray it clean with nothing more than TuffStuff and a toothbrush.
Of course I should have run in to fetch my washcloth and my ink--just to remove any possible sleight of hand that may have been occurring. But I didn’t. I didn’t want to waste her time. I especially didn’t want to waste my time.
She persisted.
”What’s your most difficult cleaning job?” she demanded.
Naturally I thought of the right answer two minutes after we parted company.
Blood, of course. We try to keep the salespeople on the front porch...but sometimes you get this awful splattering...
But instead I tried, as tactfully and pleasantly as possible to explain that I just didn’t buy my products door to door.
”Why not?” she demanded peppily, in her valiant but futile effort to keep the lines of communication open. And I can’t even remember what I replied, but I went in grumbling about fire-bombing the “Keep the Customer Feeling Like a Clod School of Peppiness.”
Last night I watched the ending two-thirds of Captain Blood on Turner Classic Movies. Errol Flynn sure was pretty. I was especially impressed with Captain Blood’s way of dispatching the sleazy Captain Lavasseur without mussing his pretty hair. I wasn’t worried about Lavasseur’s cheveux, as I was too impressed about his abysmal french accent to mind his hair.
Now there is no getting around it. I must put Robin Hood in my Netflix queue to see if Errol always looks pretty in tights, and if Olivia deHavilland always looks like a cute little muffin-face.
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