So this morning around 11:30, I'm camped out on the couch under about 900 blankets -- my living room is freezing. I have some tunes on and am happily plowing through the Sunday crossword. And the doorbell rings.
Now. Hardly anyone but my landlady ever comes over here, and she's seen me in everything from my nightshirt (summer) to 3 layers of sweats and socks (today), and she couldn't care less.
Mind you, I had yet to shower, so my hair was a disaster, I still had morning breath, etc. But assuming it was my landlady, I went ahead and opened the door.
The Chippewa Falls city attorney is campaigning for an open circuit court judge seat. Primary's in Feb., election's in April. I interviewed him for his last run, and ran into him at city council meetings and the like.
Remember: Sweats, morning breath, greasy hair, open the door. And there I behold Bob Ferg. Who looks at me and says, "Oh, hi, Candy!"
He split pretty quickly after handing me some campaign lit, so I suspect he was as embarrassed as I was.
I think I've blushed fewer than 5 times in my whole life, but DANG that was humiliating.
Now playing: Eric Hutchinson - Back to Where I Was