From Dooce

Pure genius. I love her writing! Dooce, you’re my hero.

A few minutes later a large truck pulled up in front of our house, and a young guy, maybe late teens? hopped out. I walked outside and met him before he could climb the stairs to the porch, told him the Rottweiler had been nothing but precious, he should be very proud. Now, I’m going to set this up by telling you that I had worked out earlier in the day and had yet to take a shower or change my clothes. And my hair was pulled back into two pigtails because it’s in that horrible in between stage, Hair Purgatory, where it’s too short to look good up but too long to look good down, and half of it was where it was supposed to be, the other half was haphazardly tucked behind my ears. Like someone had tried to brush the husk of a coconut.

He made small talk for a second, told me where he lived, how long he’d had the dog, and then he made this really startling move, put his left elbow on the porch and then leaned in close with all his weight. And then he took his right hand and pointed at the door and said, “So, yeah. You live here with your mom?” It was less of a question and more of a gesture of sympathy, like, he knew what a drag it could be. And then he raised his eyebrows and motioned his head toward his car. Like he was going to save me. Like we were going to escape. From the hellish prison of youth.

I looked around to see if he was talking to me.

“Actually,” I said, “I live here with my husband.” And then in my head I elaborated on that one part about how Jon is old enough to be this kid’s father.

That’s when his elbow flew off the porch and, walking backwards with the Rottweiler at his side, he mumbled something about how that must be nice. And within seconds he was in his truck and gone. Just like that. And I stood there trying to figure out if that had really just happened.

When I walked back inside I stopped just inside the door, perched my hand at the top of my sweat pants, and told Jon that the teenager who owned the Rottweiler just tried to pick me up, MAMA HAS STILL GOT IT. And that’s when Jon suggested that maybe the Rottweiler was a seeing eye dog.