Moss, is humor writer from Tennessee. She writes a
weekly human interest column about daily life and the funny
things that happen to everyone.
She has written for the Daily News of Kingsport, Griffin Journal,
Oakridge Now, Atlanta Woman Magazine, Aberdeen Examiner, Angleton
Advocate, and Smyrna AM, a supplement of the Murfreesboro Daily News
Journal. She has been
published by Voyageur Press, McGraw Hill, and the good folks
at Guidepost Books. Her articles have appeared in
numerous anthologies and other publications, both in print and online.
She is a
former board member and past Editor of the Columnists.com, website of the National Society of Newspaper
oldest and largest professional organization
for columnists. She is the Web Editor of
Humorists.com and a founder of the Southern Humorists writers'
organization. She is writer, editor, and webmaster of HumorColumnist.com.
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Online Since 1999
must be my age. After I finish one project, I can't seem to
remember how much trouble it was. I look only at the results and
next thing I know, I'm planning another.
I've had my eye on our mailbox for a while. It is --- or should I
say "was", red. But the color faded. I already had a can
of red spray paint, so it was just a matter of spraying it. One
day when I already had on my "painting clothes", I
figured I might as well do this small job and get it out of the
Meanwhile, my daughter had a cold and wanted to go to the local
convenience clinic to see a doctor.
"Call and I'll pick you up when you are done," I told
her when I dropped her off. I figured it would be a couple of
hours, plenty of time to do my small project before she was done.
I went out to the street where the mailbox is with my can of red
paint and a piece of cardboard, which I planned to hold over the
parts not to be painted to shield them from the spray. This worked
pretty well, except I forgot that while holding the cardboard, my
hand would also get sprayed.
By the time I was done, the mailbox looked great, but my hand was
a brilliant red. I figured I'd get out the paint thinner and clean
About then, honey yelled out the door that my daughter was on the
"I'm ready," she said.
"Already?" It's only been half an hour.
"I was the second patient today", she explained.
"They are not very busy."
So, I figured that I would go get her and then come home and clean
the red paint off.
"They want a co-pay," she said when I got there,
oblivious to the fact that I looked as if I had been in
Good grief, I have to go inside. I hoped no one would notice my
scarlet hand. I kept it behind the counter and used my other hand.
No one said anything.
"I have to get medicine," said my daughter.
"Okay, we can drive thru and drop off the prescription and
come back later."
"I need to wait for it," she said. "The doctor said
to get started on this right away."
So, off we went to Wal-Mart, where we went inside to the pharmacy.
I hadn't figured on all this when I left home.
"You give it to them," I said. "I don't want them
to see this painted paw of mine."
While were waiting, I remember that I was out of my medicine.
Might as well get that since I'm here anyhow. I tried to hide my
hand-painted hand under the counter again as I bought the
medicine. They must have wondered what was wrong with my pitiful
arm that I couldn't move it, but no one said anything.
Then I remember seeing some flowers in the garden shop that I'd
like to have. "Do you think I'd have time to buy flowers
before they are done?"
I selected a pot of flowers and tried to hide my hand behind my
purse as I paid with a debit card. However, it took two hands to
pick up the plant and carry it out. Maybe if I just act as if
everything is normal, no one will notice that I have a lobster
claw, I thought.
"It's paint -- not blood. Have you never seen red
paint," I thought. No one said anything.
Funny, you could probably walk around with a paper sack over your
head and everyone would ignore you and pretend not to
I went back and got the medicine, which was ready by
then. Concealing the red hand was automatic by now. No one mentioned
I've had some strange experiences in my lifetime; however, this the
first time that I can ever remember being literally caught red-handed.
Copyright 2007 Sheila Moss
Nashville, TN 37219
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