The other day I found myself in need of a spell- the kind that levels a playing field.
I had been running errands and dealing with unhelpful people wherever I went.
“Can you point me in the direction of…?”
“Do I look like I work here?”
“Well, the name-tag and all.”
“Where do I return…?”
“Move it to that register.”
“You mean the one six inches away?”
I was keeping my patience in check, but a gal only has so much ‘non-confrontational- nice-lady’ in supply.
“Can I order…?”
“We all out.”
“But you called me.”
“Wrong numba musta been.”
Kind Of Day.
“Can I get change for…?”
“We don’t do change. We do weaves that change people’s lives!”
“But all I need is…”
“LaToya! Come deal with this woman. I’m full-up with Lydia Delphines’s issues!”
“When do you think I can expect delivery on…?”
“Baby. You only just dropped it off two months ago.”
“What are you doing to my trees…?”
“You wanted them trimmed right Miss Cheryl?”
“You want I should stop now?”
“Can I change my appointment to…?”
“Do you have any suggestions?”
Eye rolling, hair pulling, get me a gun Kind Of Day.
So, I did what any God fearing, middle aged, graduate degreed, pusher of humans through a garden hose, married for 30+years, increased from a size 8 to a
12 10, hair turning gray (hair growing in places that it should not), wine loving, I dare you, kinda gal would do- I called on my Coven, and conjured a few bad ass incantations with my friends down the street because Hollywood can’t make this shit up…
|The House used as the setting for
Miss Robichaux’s Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies
American Horror Story:Coven
(also, just around the corner from mine, which is fortunate because I often grease my broomstick with the gals because you have to stay in shape)
|The backyard view.
Also where we practice levitation & dance naked- sometimes, actually, to music.
|The front gate, by which upon entering you are greeted by
the Headmistress and asked to demonstrate your power.
Mine is spending money without Ben finding out.