"That girl was hot!" whispered the lad to his friend as they walked past me. It was just shortly before three, and the busload of high schoolers who live at the apartment complex had just been dropped off.

"That was a boy!" his friend whispered back.

Oh, so they were talking about me, I thought. Poor boys, they didn't look to be more than freshmen, so their testosterone was only just starting to rev up from puberty addling their brains. Probably really doesn't help them any to see someone like me, sending mixed signals with a curvy figure, women's clothing, and lots of hair in all the wrong places.

So what do I do? I put a little extra sway in my hips as I continue past them, of course. What was that? You say what? No. I'm not a tease, not at all! *innocence whistle*

I've been wearing women's size 6 work jeans, a women's medium long sleeve t-shirt, a lightweight women's medium jacket, and a women's medium windbreaker over my Underarmour for a while now. Recently I had to buy a women's SMALL belt and belt it all the way down to a 4 in order to wear the jeans comfortably.

Last night I took a nice hot shower, exfoliated, and washed and exfoliated my face. This morning I was feeling a little extra flirty so I put some very light padding in my bra - just enough that even through all my layers for keeping warm working outside you could just see an indication of breasts.

Around about 2 today, I got a little warm and took the windbreaker layer off... The breasts became quite a bit more noticeable. What? Me, a tease? No way.

This week started a bit lousy. Cold and wet and dreary and it seemed 'ol Murphy was out to get me something fierce.

We're not talking about Monday. No. Skipping that day... Well, both Monday and Tuesday were wet drizzly and uber cold. Tuesday, on top of that, was a nightmare of problems. I started the day doing some indoor crap that the wrecking crew conveniently missed doing again.

Two apartments were being moved into later that day, and one of them stank to high heaven, the linoleum was filthy, the washer and drier were full of dirt, the toilet had a nasty ring around inside it, and the kitchen counters were sticky. Spent almost the entire first half of my shift cleaning that up. Moved on to the next one, this just needed some dirt swept out off the linoleum, there were no other messes to deal with, not even stuck-on stuff on the linoleum. Just loose sweepable dirt. And that, only all the downstairs linoleum (this was a townhouse).

Back in the warmer weather when my attire was reasonable both inside and out, this didn't bother me that much, but it's much colder now, and I no longer have the imperviousness to the cold that I used to. I was dressed in full wet weather garb - all the same as above, plus a slit open contractor bag used for a skirt to keep my jeans from being completely drenched through.

I had to take all this off to be able to not overheat inside the apartments. All of it. Down to my Underarmour. And of course, my brother walks in on me while I'm in such attire and is like "and why are we getting undressed?".

After that, I delivered newsletters most of the rest of the day. The box they were in fell apart, had to get a bag to put the newsletters in... Several keys wouldn't work without serious finagling... about fivish, I'm next to the grounds shed and notice that our seed and salt spreaders were still spread out in front of it getting rinsed out by the rain.

So I prop open the door I was about to deliver newsletters in, because I'd had to go around back to get in because the front door refused to work with the key, and go fight the blasted things into the shed. I go back to return to delivering the newsletters and the door I'd propped open was shut tight! Some bastard resident kicked my door stopper away while I was fighting the mess in the shed!

So I had to go all the way back around to the back entrance to the building, and fight the stupid lock to try to get in again, and the stupid keyring with all the building masters breaks apart and the keys go flying everywhere. By now it's almost time to be clocking out, and I barely have time to find and pick up all the keys, just barely get back inside the building to get the rest of the newsletters and dash back to the office to dump the crap, grab everything of mine out of the shop, and clock out before the rest of the overeager beavers lock me out.

Yeah. A real Murphy's Corollary day. Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong, at the worst possible time, in the worst possible way.

Wednesday was better, the wet had finally stopped, and even though everything froze overnight, the skies were clear when I got to work. Finished delivering newsletters, picked up dead fall, then went back to the interminable leaf cleanup. The day was really going quite well, really... ... and then the Corollary struck again. This time, right near the end of my shift, again, the rake falls apart and I have to pick up all it's spokes and rush everything back to the shop, again, just barely getting out of there in time. As it is, I got rushed out of the shop and ended up leaving my carabiners for tying my kit down to my rack behind...... Was a fun ride home.

Wednesday was also the day that the events at the top of this entry occurred.

Today was a good day though. Murphy's Corollary decided to take a vacation day. Maybe it was because of my extra-long bathing ritual last night, or the bra padding this morning, or maybe it just happened to be a better day...

Well, til next time I feel up to writing,

Abigail Drew.