"I Like Your Skirt"

Today in church, while I was getting the wine, the lady serving it to me whispered "I like your skirt." I was wearing the one that is black and white and has sort of a jungle-like print.
"Thank you," I whispered back.
Is that even okay, whispering about things that have nothing to do God, when you're receiving His blood? Probably not.
But I'm okay with that.
I really like going to church on Friday's, even though I usually can't go because of work. It's mostly old ladies, who are really friendly and nice and sometimes gossip a little. They're cute.
They make me think about what I want to be like when I'm old. I hope I'm riding a motorcycle and wearing leather (and am this badass) and going to church and traveling and writing angry diatribes on the Internet and collecting pins and sending old friends random stuff in the mail. I hope I live in a big, dark Victorian house up on a hill, and that all the neighborhood children and pets are afraid of me. Whenever someone's baseball falls into the yarn, the kids scatter. And then I sell those baseballs back to them at the neighborhood garage sale for a ridiculous price. And that there are awesome guys that are coming in and out of my house all the time that everyone knows what I'm doing with but doesn't want to think about. Basically, like I am now, but even stranger and more random.