None of my beeswax

Having read my fair share of blogs over the last few years, I've been ever-so pleased with the "Overheard" genre of blog entries.

Content of "Overheard"- style entry: Bits of dialogue or something you shouldn't have been privy to.
Why it's good: Usually a very brief bit, the content is often out of context.
Result: Leaves the listener/reader/eavesdropper in the delightful position of filling in the rest of the story.
Personal impact: It's fun to make things up about other people's lives! And sometimes, if you're lucky, you learn a little something along the way.

So this wasn't overheard really. It was just something I had no business seeing.

This morning. At the car wash. Sitting, waiting for my car, minding my own biznizz.

Young, trendy-looking woman in long, flowing skirt and high heels sits down across the way. She looks over at her fancy convertible. I look over at my car. I look back in her direction.

In the brief moment that I'd looked away, right there in front of god and everyone, the woman had pulled her long, flowing skirt up to about mid-thigh, and she was putting some kind of medicated cream on about six giant gashes on her knees and legs. Gashes! Giant. Gashes. When her skirt was down, it was all good. Skirt up? Quite unpleasant!

Were those dog bites? Did she take a spill on some rocks on her hike yesterday? Had she invented some kind of knee-hugging machine only to discover the prototype had a fatal flaw? What the...?

Puts skirt down. Crosses legs. Puts cream away. Looks around. Pulls skirt up. Inspects gashes closely. Taps them a little. Leaves skirt up to let gashes breathe. Puts skirt down. Stands up. Makes a cell phone call. Thinks about gashes.

Conclusion: I should start a list of all the things I can do while waiting at the car wash. And! I should invent the world's greatest knee-hugging machine.