I live in a tiny southern town. Charming, yes. Historic, yes. Boring, yes.
Apparently, The Travel Channel agrees with all but the boring bit.
Yesterday, as I got ready to go to work, I decided, as I often do, that since a) It was an obscenely gross and rainy Saturday and b) I'm going to a job which I leave smelling of grease, that it would be a make-up-free day. Cozy sweater, messy bun, off to work.
Mop in hand, I contentedly cleaned last night's dirt from the floor. I rather enjoy mopping; it's a mindless task, yet absolutely satisfying. Instantly gratifying. At one point, I looked up to see a young man dash through the bitterly cold rain to knock on our door. I unlocked it to explain that we were not open yet.
This nice young man is part of a film crew who is staying in town this weekend, making a documentary.Can they come film us today?
Cameras and cameras and microphones and a dozen people in our small little restaurant...
I've never felt more awkward in my entire life.
Hollywood, I will not be seeing you anytime soon.