Go Ahead, Make My Day

The post I planned to write Thursday morning was full of woe. As in, "woe is me" because:

* my toe, the one I kicked almost a month ago and (think I) broke, still hurts enough for me to think "TOE!" far too often;

* because of said toe, my planned re-entry into the world of Those Who Exercise has been sidelined, making me feel squishy where I do not want to feel squishy;

* my hair, oh my hair, is looking a bit too "mommish" right now...

You get the picture.

And, then, later in the afternoon, the heavens decided to throw me a bone.

I was in, of all places, a Dermatologist's office getting the once-over by the kind doctor with a thick accent. My bored children rolled around on the floor willing this exam to end.

"OK, now I look at your face", the Doctor said as she peered at my skin. "And you are. . .how old?"

"41", I said and, unexpectedly, I saw her step back with a look of surprise on her face.

"OH! I thought you were, maybe, 29!"

Now, this may be a standard Dermatologist line, one that they use on their 90-year-old clients, as well as the tired-and-rumpled moms who walk through their doors.

But, I'll take it. Yes, I will. She made my day.