There are times I leave the house that I prefer to remain completely invisible to everyone around me. Though I love to get out, I don’t always want to engage in conversation. It’s not like people are running up to get my autograph. I’m not a celebrity or a supermodel. I just don’t possess the social skills and self restraint to be polite or even give a nod hello before my first cup of coffee in the morning. As anyone who knows me can attest, a pre-coffee encounter with me is hazardous at best. My social aversion is not an attempt to be mean, it’s for the protection of those around me.

My daily Depot runs lately require me to roll out of bed and head straight for the store-no coffee, no makeup, no preparation for human interaction. Back in LA I devised a buffer of sorts that made me invisible to everyone. This quite simply consisted of three-quarter yoga pants, flip flops, and “instant makeup” (my big dark sunglasses). I could stroll into the Hollywood Target, Home Depot, or CVS like a vampire looking in a mirror. It was glorious.

Here in Austin, I might as well wear a shirt that says, “TALK TO ME”. My normal incognito getup guarantees I will be engaged in conversations in the aisles and at the register. Before noon, I don’t care how old your kids are or that Timmy clogged the toilet with your wedding dress while Sally was feeding the cat chili. I only care that they feel the need to throw extra items in my cart and empty my purse while you try to tell me your life story. Miss Cashier, thank you for reminding me I forgot my reusable bags while you provide me extra plastic bags (seems a bit counterproductive to the reusable bag reminder). I consider it a victory I remembered my pants. Yup, I’m from Los Angeles. Really, you’ve been there? No, I don’t want to talk about the time you and your brother went to LA and got mugged by a guy that looked like Jim Carrey. I’m sure it was an awesome watch, but I haven’t seen Jim wearing anything with longhorns on it lately. Can I have my receipt?

I’m not sure the key factor yet. In the coming days, I need to scientifically test each element and see if the it’s the pants, sunglasses, or what that’s blowing my cover. Perhaps I need a pair of mom jeans and a dirty shirt. Considering my washing machine STILL doesn’t work, the dirty shirt can easily be arranged.