It might be accurate (and not an exaggeration in any way) for me to say that I'm pretty sure I'm falling apart; or perhaps it's the cloudy day and whatever is in the air that is causing my sinuses to remain on the verge of explosion, that is contributing to my problems. My body works, mostly, but my mental faculties are fuzzy. And let's not even talk about my grace and coordination.
I'd like to think that a big magic wand with a giant eraser on the end would come in handy; I'd pretty much like to erase most of the events of the past few days.
I'm being a wee bit dramatic, you know. It hasn't been that bad; I've just been feeling a bit contrary lately. Heck, I've been having some decent hair days, so I can't complain TOO much. Finding and maintaining an attractive hair style is half the battle, no?
This might come as a surprise to many, but I'm a glass-half-empty kind of person. Oh, I kid. That tid bit of information is glaringly obvious. My mom used to call me Eeyore, which is quite a befitting nickname.
Forever bumbling along with a storm cloud over my head.
In hopes of turning my frown up side down, I'll start with the good stuff, since this blog post is titled "The GOOD, the bad and the Sticky."
I already mentioned the good hair, but that's something that bears repeating. I'd like to thank Pam at the Hair Cuttery in Alexandria, VA for giving me some good layers. Yes, I go to a cheapy hair cut place; it's shameful, I know. But I'm cheap and would much rather pay $21 for a hair cut than $50+. It's all about numbers.
As a side note, I hate it when hair dressers ask if I'm using "good" shampoo. Honestly, I lied to Pam and said yes because I not only didn't want her to publicly chastise me for using inferior hair products, but I also didn't want to feel pressured into buying some ridiculously priced shampoo.
The truth is, sometimes I use the good stuff and sometimes I use Suave. As it so happens, I'm using Suave now because I got the bottles on sale with a coupon, paying about .29 a bottle. Quality or not, I can't pass up a deal like that.
I've been blessed with silky, shiny hair and can get away with the cheaper stuff. I prefer the good stuff, since I have impeccable taste and all, but I had a coupon. A coupon! You can't roll your eyes at that.
I'm baking AGAIN. This time it's for Caroline's school's Veteran's Day program tomorrow. I had originally planned on making coffeecake muffins, but the volunteer organizer (and my neighbor) said she had tons of muffins, but no brownies.
NO BROWNIES! Not good.
I changed my plans and now my house smells like chocolate.
Yesterday Caroline told me she needed to wear red or camouflage tomorrow for their Veteran's Day celebration. Today, an email from her teacher reiterated the information.
Short notice. Bad.
$4.50 red long sleeved tshirts at Wal Mart. Good.
As are $2.00 clearance charcoal grey corduroy capris. For Caroline, not me.
I did, however, manage to find a piece of wall art (?) for $5. It's a wooden framed metal scrolly thing. Obviously my descriptive powers are lacking today. Basically, it's something to put on the wall. I've had an open space in our living room for um, ever. Since we moved in. Just recently I decided that I needed to find something to fill the void. On the wall, that is.
The void in my soul cannot be filled from the clearance rack at Wal Mart. Or could it?
Serendipitously stumbling upon cheap (but lovely) wall art. Good.
And for the bad.
Hmm, suddenly I've forgotten what has gone so terribly awry in my life. I suppose accentuating the positive first IS a good idea.
I'll have to remember that.
I spilled my water on the gym floor today. That's BAD.
Thankfully the bottle was nearly empty, but not nearly empty enough.
I hate when I'm so messy.
Speaking of messy...and sticky...aha, this is where the sticky comes in....
As I grabbed my gym bag out of the car this morning and walked into the gym, I heard a few little squirty noises. It was my hair spray; evidently the nozzle was pressing against something. I quickly repositioned the hair spray bottle and went on my merry way. I deposited my gym bag in the locker and placed the bag with my clean change of clothes on top. Just like I do everyday.
I had a decent workout; ran three miles (with minimal hip pain, yay!) and did Body Combat. And spilled my water, but I don't want to rehash that.
After Body Combat, I went to the locker room to get ready to beautify. I pulled out my bag with the clean clothes and noticed that my gym bag felt sticky. And wet. It was hairspray! The bag on top depressed the hair spray button, allowing all the hair spray to escape from the bottle, leaving EVERYTHING sticky. My make up bag, including the brushes, my soap and shampoo bottles, my weight lifting gloves. All sticky. The hair spray somehow managed to infiltrate my clean clothes bag and left three large hair spray spots on my pants. Thankfully on the legs and not anywhere embarrassing or suspicious.
This isn't the first time this has happened. In fact, it's probably the fourth time. And to think I averted a crisis earlier in the morning as I was walking into the gym. That was merely a prelude to a bigger, stickier storm.
I honestly don't know where my head is on most days. I'm fairly competent on many levels, especially on the domestic front. But, gee whiz, I'm a total space cadet sometimes.
Sure, having to wash my gym bag and all it's contents is somewhat of a bother, but what was worse is that I didn't have any hairspray to use to secure my coif after I blow dried. Talk about horror.
Thankfully, I used my wits and applied extra pre-blow-dry hair product which managed to help maintain some hold. I honestly didn't need the extra hair spray today.
Aww, a hair success story.
Caroline's teacher has been reinforcing the "author's message" to the kids as they read stories. Often times I don't have a message; heck, I hardly ever have a point.
But, in the interest of maintaining some sort of literary integrity, ahem, I suppose it's safe to say that today's message is this: a good hair day and a few clearance items can make a sticky gym bag more bearable.