I’m. Still. Me.

Last night I finished writing my post, read it a few times to clean-up any misspellings and/or grammar errors, shut my laptop gingerly, and went upstairs ready to be a new woman.  My husband and I so rarely have the opportunity to indulge in more than a few minutes in front of the TV that when we realized we had nothing pressing, and a good two hours until we would go to bed, we quickly booted up the DVR.  So many options…so little time.  We compromised and watched Justified and The Deadliest Catch.

At 11:30, we turned off the TV, started turning off lights, and my husband decided it was THE PERFECT TIME to go to bed, read a book, make a snack, GO TO BED (!!!), give the dog a bath.  Wait…what?  Give the dog a bath?  At 11:30pm?  Really?  Back story is needed.  Sullivan is best buddies with the dog next door Lucky.  Lucky has a pond/swamp in his back yard.  Sullivan and Lucky used to go in the pond every once and awhile but lately, even when he’s just let out to “do his business,” Sullivan makes a mad dash for the pond.  He returns soaking wet, full of pond scum, and smelly.  Really really smelly.

More back story…when we give him a bath he gets crazy.  And by crazy I mean CRAZY.  He speeds around the house jumping on anything and everything, shaking violently to dry off, and finding anything he can to put in his mouth so we’ll chase him.

So bathing him at 11:30pm, while improving the smell of our home, was not (in my opinion) the wisest decision.

We went to bed and Sullivan was out of sorts.  So he opted to sleep between us.  Legs on my husband, face on me.  I woke up several times due to the dog a) stealing covers, b) pinning down my legs by laying across them (how it can be comfy for him when my pointy ankle bones dig into his stomach I’ll never know), and c) sleeping with his face on top of mine.  I do love this dog, and I adore when he wants to snuggle, but seriously?

I woke up exhausted and feeling injured because of how the dog slept on my limbs.  But no matter, I woke up ready to face this world as the woman I aspire to be.

I got to work early and went to the elevator bank and found signs stating that they would be out-of-order today.  Had I gone into the office yesterday instead of working from home perhaps I would have known this was in the works.  And perhaps I would have avoided wearing very tall heels.  Three long flights of stairs later…in heels…carrying a heavy purse, a ridiculously heavy briefcase, and a 32 ounce Diet Coke, I got to my floor.

I worked furiously for several hours and then was off to meetings.  When I got home I had a few minutes to return emails so I quickly changed into sweats and turned on my computer.  So…my running shoes are “sticky” on the bottom.  I’ve been telling my husband this for months and he refuses to believe me.  The balls of my feet get caught on the carpet at the gym all the time.  He contends that I’m clumsy.  I beg to differ.  So I’m finishing up work, running around the house, and I ran to the bathroom to grab a tissue and the bottom of my shoe caught on the linoleum.  I fell forward and came within an inch of my forehead ramming into the corner of the window sill.  I was able to brace myself and escaped what I’m sure would have been a severe head wound.

I was to meet my husband at the bank (the reasons behind this visit are a different post completely…maybe tomorrow) at 4:30.  He didn’t show-up until five.  Leaving me seething in my car outside of the bank.  I started to get nervous that a running car directly in front of the bank entrance might catch someone’s attention.  It may cause concern.  I started thinking of what I would tell the security guard when he would surely come out to question me.  While thinking about my probable arrest for casing the joint I…well…okay I fell asleep.  In my car.  Outside of the bank.  I was awoken when my husband called to ask if I’d received his text nearly 40 minutes ago telling me he’d be late.  I did not.

When he finally arrived we went into the bank, were greeted by a banker, and were soon in his office as he worked on our accounts.  We were both a little nervous, so I did what I normally do when nervous, I talked.  The banker was our age and seemed like he could be one of our friends.  So I chatted.  And chatted.  And chatted.  I did say that I had been sleeping in my car not 15 minutes prior to this…right?  We were talking about “back in the day” and I may or may not have said something to the extent of “yeah, but that was back when you were still trying to get laid.”  Oh Jesus.  What?!  I don’t even speak that way in real life, for the love of God, let alone in front of a complete stranger who is looking at our financial history.  The banker covered his face to conceal how hard he was laughing and my husband smoothly tried to keep conversation going by saying “yeah…well…anyway…”

I mean…what?!

We decided to grab dinner quick and then we’d divide and conquer.  As I was walking from the soda fountain machine to our booth my stupid running shoe AGAIN got caught up on the floor and I nearly face planted with a large soda…in the middle of a restaurant…at peak dinner hour.  By the grace of God (certainly not my own grace) I caught myself AGAIN.

Husband went to the gym, I went home to run with the dog.  At the end of the run, when I’d slowed to a walk, we were a few houses from mine when…son of a b-tch…MY F-CKING RUNNING SHOE caught on the ground and it’s all I could do not to fall on my face and take the damn dog with me.  But…again…I caught myself.

We got home and I, not thinking, let the dog out.  He returned soaking, covered in grossness, and I.  Have.  Had.  It.  I picked him up, threw him in the tub, and gave him his SECOND bath in 24 hours.

When I said it was time to LIVE life and BE the woman I want to be this is not what I had in mind.  It IS, however, a fantastic reminder that my life…no matter how well lived…will always be a little ridiculous.  Because let me be clear…I will always be ME.  It also reminds me to laugh at myself and my surroundings as much as possible.

TODAY:  What if doing everything in my power to make my life amazing includes laughing at myself on days like this one.  What if every day can’t be epic but can at least provide good comedy.  If not for me…at least for you.


5 thoughts on “I’m. Still. Me.

  1. Seriously, I’m crying I’m laughing so hard. It’s the way that you tell the story but of course the images I have of you biffing it which makes me feel a little bad that I’m laughing at your misfortunes but thank you for the comedy that I truly needed tonight.

  2. I had to lol when I read about your husband giving the dog a bah at 11:30 at night. My husband always wants to start these ambitious projects (e.g. painting a room, making sauerkraut, baking) late at night when all I want to do is veg and watch tv or read. Why?!?

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