Embarrassing Lagertha

Got home from beer with GBFF…WHTBS the other night.

Pulled into my driveway.

Got out of my car.

And dude across the street says, “There she is!”

And I say, “Heyyyy!”

Wave and all.

Just went all in on the acknowledgment.

I’ve never seen dude across the street before.

Dude across the street has never seen me before.

I don’t know dude across the street.

Dude across the street doesn’t know me.

Dude across the street wasn’t talking to me.


Walked myself on inside.

Where Lagertha audibly sighed.

And said, “Well, that was embarrasing.”

…yeah, I know…

Homegirl. Lagertha. She’s not new here.

My girl is damn near 100 years old.

She has asked me to please just keep my head down from now on.

Don’t talk to the neighbors.

And keep the curtains closed.

Like I said. She has rules.

And then…

“So, I see we’ve moved cats in.”

“Four of them.”

“So, you’re not…no plans for dating, huh?”

What. Just because I have cats doesn’t mean I can’t date.

“Four of them. Four cats. You brought four cats here.”

Whatever. They’re sweet sweet babies.

“Yes. Sweet. These two spend all day spying on the neighbors.”

She’s right.

Just openly spying on the neighbors.

Just always.

“And this one just climbing shit she is definitely not supposed to be climbing.”

She’s just athletic. She needs an outlet for her athleticism.

“And this one reading all forms of filth.”

Don’t be such a prude, Lagertha. Fall Risk gave me that very accurate journal.

“Whatever. Just keep your children under control.”

They’re not my children, Lagertha. They’re cats.

“I can hear you when you talk to them. They are your children. Parent them.”


I could date if I wanted to, though…


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