I don't know what happened in the air today, but not much is going right for me. I'm trying to concentrate on how much I like how my hair turned out, but otherwise - I didn't get the hiking book I wanted to perfect a wedding present (due this afternoon); my stupid skirt was clinging to itself and my legs like an overtired toddler; every inch of my previously beloved $1 garage sale Banana Republic coat was thick with linty bits; my too-expensive Nordstrom tights were puddling at my ankles, making me feel even more matronly than did the dozens of fresh hip young friends of the bride & groom coolly high-fiving at the reception. And it occurs to me now that only old people call twentysomethings "fresh" and "hip."
As soon as we got home from the torture that was an outing in my bad outfit, I put on old jeans and lay down with the covers up to my chin. I tried to close my eyes and think happy fun thoughts about the party we're attending tonight, about me & my man having the whole night to ourselves while the kids hang with Grandpa. But thoughts of the laundry piles around the house and the fact that we're out of detergent and tomorrow's improbable schedule drained what little energy I had left. Of course the only solution was to get out of bed and start writing a blog about my crummy day. (To be fair, the wedding was lovely and I always like showing off my dressed-up man and the reception had good foods that darling Stu delivered to me because I couldn't bear walking another step in my *#&(*#(@ skirt). But first I had to exhibit banshee-like behavior with my bickering children, which only serves to hurt my head and make them think I'm crazy. Then I packed their overnight bags and ate some chocolate.
I might be ready to try a different outfit and make another go at grown-up social interaction. I really hope there are martinis at this party.