DAISY CONFLICTED

 

Daisy was conflicted. It was not an unusual occurrence, but today’s "conflict-ion" was more conflicted than most. 

If not for the hats, she’d be in a serious dilemma. Daisy was cantankerous, but baffled, and the more confused she got, the angrier she was. And when she was angry, she went from 'zero to pissed'.

She was down to three hats. Straw, linen, and “sporty”.  The straw was wide brimmed and provided needed protection. The Linen was a chic, drooped- over-the-eye mysterious, and the sporty was just that -  to a tee. Country girl, city girl, or active girl.

  

She hated this bullshit. The hats were the easy part, but the pants, the top, the shoes…oh my god, the shoes. She was loosing it!

Darrell called, which did not help. He offered to come over and ‘put something together’ for her. She declined. She didn’t need this mania to spread…or be suppressed, for that matter. She didn’t need a man to manage her wardrobe, even if he was a gay man with loads of taste, the answer was still ‘no’. No chance. She her "disengaged" her cell, cutting him off in mid-sentence. She needed to get past this herself. 

Goddamn him for even trying. Now she’ll have to think of way to say ‘I’m sorry’, but, then that’s a thought for another day. Right now she was in panic mode. She had a bout with IBS, which was painfully unpleasant, and 'emerged' with even less time to prepare. She was meeting men with jodhpurs and riding crops…the women, wore what, garters and gussets? Who knew? 

It was all getting so time-consuming and tiresome...

Two hours later, she called Darrell and asked what he was doing. He was a bit pissy from their prior conversation (and had right to be), but she told him she had decided not to attend, after all.

“A Major Client Faux Pas, but that’s what ‘staff’ is for. They’ll think of something, and bring in someone at the last minute. It won't be easy, but it’s their job.”

"Oh, no! Is she alright?....All our prayers go out...well wishes for a speedy recovery...poor, poor, Daisy..."

She asked him, pointedly, if he needed a drink, and he said, “Lord, yes! ” and that was that. They planned an early dinner, nothing special, very casual, sunny patio, and most of all, loose attire.

“Every now and then, I’m allowed to be casual on the weekend,” she declared, and then proceeded to be very.

V