Why is it

Why is it, that on the evening that you go to Safeway to purchase coffee the elixir of life, and you debate with yourself, because you are wearing:
  • your husband's old tourist shirt that says Banff Canada, which has an odd sort of stain in the centre (grease? Creosote from a bridge? Stain from the deck?), and
  • a pair of capri pants that are old, ratty and 2 sizes too large,
  • stained blue crocs that you usually wear in the garden, but you have tidied up all the shoes, and you can't find a pair of slip ons, or your nicer crocs, and you are too tired to go all the way upstairs to put your socks on, so that you can wear your Merrells. . . .
  • most of your hair in a pony tail, except for your bangs, which are horribly greasy, and the bits at the back of your head, which always fall out, and that one layer at the front, on the left side, which the hair dresser must have cut too short, as it will not stay, and you can't find a bobby pin anywhere, and
  • with 2 zits on your face (I've named them Fred and Larry, I expect they'll need their own postal codes soon).

Why is that when you see the one person in your community that you need a favour from, who is looking at you as if you are some spectacular new version of slug that seems to be fascinating, but no one would actually want to touch it? And why is when you try to strike up a conversation about, well, anything to distract them from the way you presently look, why is it that you can't put two words together in a sentence?

And why is it I never run into anyone when I am suitably dressed, which is, let's face it, about 90% of the time?

Really - why is this?