Y’all might remember my “makeup shirt.” My Sweet Hubby’s (aka MSH) old shirt(s) I put on—every day—while I apply my makeup and fix my (BIG Texas) hair. I cannot tolerate the thought of my hairspray falling on my clothes I’m going to wear.
Last week guess what got sent to The Cleaners? Yep. My makeup shirt. Sadly, I asked MSH to look through the clothes we’d be dropping off—to make sure his were all there. So how did he not notice this shirt? Sleeves cut off? Threads dangling? Stains on the collar? Sheesh. It cost us $2.50. Okay. That’s not going to break us. On the upside? It’s been lovely wearing an ironed shirt each morning since. Wink. Wink. (I’ve also been trying to imagine what the person who processed this shirt must have thought!)
Next: I don’t profess to be the best car “parker” in this world. In fact, I typically have to go in and out of a spot 2-3 times to get my car straight/even at Hellmart or Target, etc. And I guess I haven’t shared yet that I have a temporary handicapped tag I can use in my car through June of 2020. Until I have my left hip replaced—hopefully around the middle of January—I’m in worse pain by the day and doing my best to literally drag myself around and through my daily life. I gave in two weeks ago and begged my orthopedic surgeon’s PA to help me acquire a tag. (I have shared I am NOT a person who has EVER used a handicapped parking place in a parking lot or garage or on the street. Ever. EVER. But I must confess: This ability to temporarily park up close to where I’m going? For example...doctors’ offices. Stores. Restaurants. This ROCKS. I’m enjoying this immensely and predict I’ll be sad when I can no longer do this.
Anyway...two days ago I had to go to Hellmart for a few necessary purchases. I’ve learned, in the past two weeks, you have to get up with the chickens or stay up with the night owls to luck into a handicapped parking spot at Walmart. I drove down every aisle looking for an opportunity to get my shopping done to no avail. Every marked handicapped spot was taken. I’d decided I was just going home when I spotted an opening down by the Garden Center. I actually thought I’d parked pretty dadgum good. For moi. Apparently not. When I got back—and returned my cart to the cartstand—this is what I saw I had done:
Okay—it’s pathetic. I didn’t actually interfere with anyone else’s parking. PLEASE keep this lack of judgment quiet. I’m not anxious for MSH to tease me—unmercifully—about this. We already dislike the way we each drive.
TGIF! Try to have a stress-free weekend! Take some time to relax and recharge. Mistakes happen. You and I might make less if we take some deep breaths occasionally throughout our days and allow our tired brains to refocus on our responsibilities. Re-prioritize. Eliminate some tasks or ASK FOR HELP. Seriously. We DO NOT have to do it all.
We’ll get through this! Right? RIGHT.
HUGS and Smooches...
ELC
(P.S.—I may have spelled my title wrong...but The Beatles can confirm: Life. Goes. On.)
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