Six Bags to Go
Oh man, my brain has lock jaw, people! I almost finished my deliveries. Almost. I have six more bags sitting shotgun in my van, filled with little jars of that anti-wrinkle cream and bubble bath and one Avon Wellness Pilates kit for the super skinny lady with the jet black hair extensions who complains about her "fat" ass. Please. Oh, and lipstick. Everyone orders lipstick.
Funny how the days run together when you have eight boxes of Avon to spread around town like the common cold. I schedule my life in two-week increments now, and I'm starting to think and say things like "I picked up my daughter from college during Campaign 11" and "Hmmmm school starts during Campaign 19." Everywhere I go, and I mean everywhere, I drop brochures like dandruff, little shiny books stuffed with samples of perfection, inside, outside, around and through my seaside town. And, if all that isn't enough indication of a dead lost and gone identity, I've become a mini-celebrity of sorts. Yesterday, at the Vons grocery, a kid in a Spiderman t-shirt and board shorts poked his mom in the side and yelled, "Hey Mom! Look! It's the Avon Lady! She's buying peanut butter!"
I left a brochure stuffed between two boxes of Fruit Loops, of course.
5:51:52 PM 
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