Inside My Well-Coifed Head

I have to speak tomorrow at our Stake Relief Society Mini-Conference.  I went to Target and bought a dress (I know, I know...this is why I'm the fashion laughingstock of my family, but seriously I needed laundry detergent anyway.)  I got my hair colored today (a must).  And I got my handout made.  Clearly, all the most important things are done. 

Oh, wait.  I do still need to figure out what the heck I'm going to say for forty minutes!

David rolled over this morning and asked, "So, are you ready for your spiel?"

My spiel?  My spiel?

Then he said, "Spiel.  That's a strange word.  Maybe that could be a word-of-the-week."

"Yes," I thought, prickling up, "That is a strange word to use for your WIFE'S TALK!  You act like I'm hawking magic fruit and vegetable juicers on QVC."  He got a reluctant, grumbly kiss on his way out the door.

This morning I overheard RIM and CIM  arguing.

CIM:  I need to go to Target and find some jewelry.

RIM:  No, you need to stay home and work on your talk.

CIM:  But I want to look fabulous. 

RIM:  You're not going to feel that way tomorrow when you stand up there with nothing to say.  That will not be pretty, no matter what you're wearing.

CIM:  Do you think I should get something red since the dress is black or is that too 1987?

RIM:  You bought your dress at Target.  It's a little late to be worried about what fashion statement you are making.

CIM:  (a little hurt) You know, I never feel better about myself after talking to you. 

RIM:  Tell me about it.