Did she call?
I can’t believe August is over with fall in the wings. It’s as if we’ve had the Reader’s Digest version of summer. Or one with crib notes.
It makes me wonder how Kate’s frogs must feel, like they’re checking out of her Pond Hotel much too early. “Whadda-ya mean it’s Labor Day, our lily pads aren’t even cold yet.”
Even my little sleeveless dresses are in a swoon. Could have sworn I heard my little black Theory say to my navy Agnes B.,”We’ve hardly gone anywhere. And now she’s getting ready to put us away.”
“Don’t panic, maybe not. You forget about Indian Summer.”
“No I haven’t, but you know how anal she is, her friends even say it. We’ll be cleaned, pressed and stashed in those smelly mothballs before you could say, the calla lilies are in bloom again, or not.”
“I did notice her Xmas cards already came.”
“See, what did I tell ya.”
I can deal with my dresses dissing me, it’s my shoes I’m worried about.