I had a really bad morning. Really bad. (I will spare you the details, though [much to David's consternation and chagrin] they may show up in the Christmas card this year.) It was so bad I called David and quit. I said, "You better be here at 3 o'clock because I won't be. I can't do this anymore. Well, technically, I CAN, but I won't!" Then, since I just quit my job, I decided I had the whole day to do something "just for me." Here is what I did:
1. I took a shower...and took the time to wash my hair and shave my legs.
2. I bleached my upper lip hair. (Technically, this is really for everybody looking at me, but it still felt like it was for me.)
3. And over-tweezed my eyebrows. (I got a little carried away in my angst...plus all that crying blurred my vision.)
4. Went to Zoe's for a little solace in the wool section.
You'd be surprised at what I paid for this little pile, but just look at it. A whole yard of red wool. I'm still drooling over it. Almost makes me want to cry again.
5. Drove to Dave's work for a hug and a kiss. He wasn't there. He had received my message and driven home to put me back together. When he didn't find me there, he folded and put away all my laundry. When I heard this I started crying again in earnest. I waited in the parking lot for him and then soaked his shirt and tie. I love this man.
6. Made one last stop at Old Brick House for some more retail therapy, and bought an 11-drawer dresser for the toy room. (A few weeks ago, the cheap, but HEAVY, plywood "armoire" fell on and almost crushed my four-year-old. This is my idea of replacing it.) I just marched in there and bought it.
The lady said, "Wow. Did you know what you wanted before you got in here?"
I said, "No, I just had a really bad morning."
Confused, "So...you really need a dresser?"
I sighed, "No, I just decided it was time to get paid for doing the hardest job in the world. I needed a reason to stay."
She cocked her head and said, "Oh, honey, I hear you."
At which I burst into tears again.
So now I'm broke and swollen and ready for bed. And my kids are on their way. (* Sniff, sniff.* And one of those little shuddering sighs that you get from hard crying.) The cavalry is not coming. I am here in the gap. I am here still.
(Though I may have to high-tail it out of here before our Sunday budget meeting.)