One of Them

Yesterday spun out of control. After a week away, unanswered emails totalled 97. Add in 17 unreturned calls and three telephone meetings on the schedule and voila -- an outline of the work day. The tyranny of the urgent was upon me, punctuated by a small mountain of undone laundry, dust galore and a nearly-empty pantry (which would be another great blogrant because what most of us consider an empty pantry would constitute a feast for 2/3 of the world!)

In addition, yesterday was the day appointed to install new tile in the laundry room -- the freshly painted laundry room, thanks to my wonderful, handy-man-husband. In the last several months we have become quite the do-it-yourself-ers... well, he has anyway. In my case it has been more the 'watch-it-happen-while-he-does-it-himself' with the occasional 'hand-him-the-_____ (wrench, pliers, light bulb, paint brush)' role. But back to the tile-- the tile installation was to be my small contribution to the gradual transformation that he is accomplishing in our home. We finished about 7:00, all but the crooked crannies, which were his, upon which to wield his magic.

At 7:30, it seemed as though we might need food, so I bundled up and headed into the night -- hunting and gathering on my mind. Realize, dear Reader, that this red-headed-rick-rack-girl has always, always been concerned about the way things look. Clothes, hair, shoes -- the total package communicates many things from respect to style (or lack thereof!). It is rare to leave the house without at least a thought toward appearance. (And there are reasons for that, having been in Public Life where the smallest wardrobe infraction is subject to critical comment.)

But last night was different. Last night was about one tired out gal jumping in the car, dashing into the store for supplies and rushing back to the refurbished nest in hopes of throwing in a load of laundry before pumpkin-time.

It was at the check out counter that the most egregious of errors was noticed. Dropping the car keys and reaching to retrieve them, my heart skipped a beat as my eyes focused in on the toe of my... bedroom slippers. Oh dear! I have become one of Those Women. Bedroom Slippers In The Grocery Store. Things have gone too far. My white-gloved Grandmother would have swooned. I died a thousand deaths in that moment -- face burning with a stealthly look around to see if Anyone Had Noticed.

Hmmm... no one was looking. There was one person in line eyeing my purchases, but otherwise no interest. Slipping out to the car, glad for the cover of darkness, I unloaded my cart and headed for the safety of home.

It is a downhill slide from here. This morning found me at my desk by 8:45... in a track suit! Yesterday the slippers, today sweat pants and who knows -- perhaps pj's tomorrow. And flip flops! What is the world coming to -- or should I say, to what end is the world coming? Isn't it nice to know that No One is Looking? Isn't it refreshing that the inside matters more than the outside? Isn't Life Grand?