Thursday, December 15, 2011

Don't be ridiculous...

*This will probably be a regular installment here on the blog, as often as deemed necessary.

I am finding myself doing some ridiculous things lately. It's totally unintentional, and I don't always realize it in the moment (great).

For your entertainment...

Take Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday for example. I wore the same black leggings and cream-and-black sweater. 3 days in a row. Why? Because it was easier to put it on than think about wearing something else. That, and it was all folded nicely (translation: in a heap on top of my laundry hamper). Actually, the real reason is that my mind is in 100 different places and I can't be bothered with things like outfits right now. So if you see me, and I'm wearing the same thing you last saw me in? Please ignore. At least I'm showering every day! And at least it was a 'real' outfit and not something like workout clothes or pajama pants. Let's try to give credit where credit is due.


On Tuesday, while I was finalizing the paperwork for our local storage unit, I made the mistake of opening an email of encouragement and thoughtful ideas from my friend Becky on my iPhone. The man behind the counter was taking his sweet time on the computer and answering the phone, so I was trying to be patient and checked my email to pass the time. There I am, standing at the counter reading her thoughts about what it was like to move her family out of their first home, and all the things she did to make their last days memorable as well as how she captured it all so that they could look back at pictures and videos... and the tears start to really well up in my eyes as I read this paragraph:

"The last night Charlotte slept in her room, I sang her bedtime songs with tears streaming down my face. But, you know what?! That is how we as mothers are supposed to feel. We live and breathe each day serving within the four walls of our home. We watch each stumble down the stairs, each first step in the hallway, each mess made on the kitchen floor. So, I would encourage you to take pictures of each room, from the closets to your favorite view. These will serve as a continuous reminder of the wonderful life you led on Alchester Drive. You had better believe that I have a picture of Charlotte's empty closet, and of her wall colors. I am just. that. sentimental. 'nuff. said."

** Then she sent me that picture of sweet Char's empty closet and her butter-yellow walls. I was done for. **

Suddenly the man behind the counter is asking me a question, and I look up at him and realize that I'm doing the silent-cry, tears streaming down my face! Oops, I had hardly noticed and might have sort of forgotten where I was as I got caught up in my own thoughts reading Becky's email. So I nonchalantly wipe the tears from my face and ask him to repeat his question, and as he asks me if I would like to purchase insurance for our unit, I can tell that he's assessing the situation and not sure what the next move is. Poor guy - he was about 20 years old and I'm sure he felt like I was a ticking time bomb... would I have a total breakdown in his little office that he would have to manage by himself? Was I mad at him? How can someone go from happy and completely fine to the silent sob in just seconds? I could sense his discomfort, and so I wiped each cheek once, cleared my throat and carried on as if nothing had happened. And yes, I am mortified by this interaction and hope that fate allows us to never cross paths again. Oh, for shame.

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