Ego

Door bell rings on a Sunday afternoon at 4:30.
Snakelady librarian answers doorbell in slippers and housecoat with stains on it. Hair is clean but unbrushed. Snakelady librarian is not feeling well.
“Hello.”
“Hello, I brought the candy you ordered,” a 5-year old looks up at me.
“Thank you!” I say. “How is your selling going?”
“Good.”
The mother has accompanied her daughter. The mother is a dish. The mother spent at least 45 minutes on her hair this morning and it still looks perfect.
“I don’t normally look like crap,” I say ingratiatingly, “I’m sick.”
Mother cocks her head, “No problem,” she says, hurrying the child away.
I ponder my vocabulary choices.