Saturday, April 9, 2011

My life, (not) a sitcom

So...did you ever have one of those days?

You know...those super-fun, utterly exhausting days that leave you wondering what the heck happened and where your bed is by, oh, say, eight o'clock? (Embarrassing but true, right??)

Today was one of those days. It felt like we did a little bit of everything; farmer's market downtown in the morning (Yay farmer's market!!! So glad you're open again!!), some errands, then some cleaning in the afternoon, some more errands, and then a big dinner. Any piece of it could have been cut out (Did I really need to experiment with my new Indian cookbook today? Well, the shrimp and chili sauce I made was totally worth it!), but then the day wouldn't have been quite as MUCH, and I liked how MUCH it was.

Yeah.

BUT, fun as it was, by the time dinner was over, and a totally-wound-up Zoe was finally in bed, I was kind of a wreck. I wanted to sit on the couch and groan incoherently, but there were two things standing in my way.

1. Charleston has suddenly reverted to two-shower-a-day weather, where it's so hot and muggy that you have to shower in the morning AND before you go to bed. I was a hot, sticky mess.

and

2. Charles was watching Bill Maher on our only TV, and as much as I love Bill Maher, he and his panel were all busily, passionately YELLING at each other and I just...wanted...quiet.

So I headed upstairs. And eventually was grateful that my life is not a sitcom...

I will set the scene...

Earlier in the day, I showered, but I didn't wash my hair...it's too long to wash every day now...and I did try to straighten it, but after 15 hours of Charleston humidity, it was a wavy, poofy disaster. I'd tried ponytails. Messy buns. A headband. Nothing would tame it. So about an hour ago, I'd had it, and I finally put it into two French braids, my favorite style when I was about six years old. Classy.

Then, after I showered for the SECOND time today, I decided it was time to have a little me-time...Charles was snoozing on the couch, so what ELSE was I going to do with my wild and crazy Saturday night? So I put on my jammies and rummaged around my cabinet to see what nice things I could do.

First, I found my foot lotion, and since my feet make me crazy in the summer (I swear, I must be part leper, partnered with a super-rare strain of dry skin), I decided to take care of them. The lotion I have is really greasy, though, so I have to put socks on after I use it to keep from leaving coconut-scented footprints throughout my house. So now, I am in jammies (a dress), white cotton socks, and my hair is in braids.

Such hotness, I know.

Then I found one of those face-conditioning mask-thingies, and decided to use it to take care of my skin. It's a clear mask, not the ugly purple or green ones you've probably seen on movies, but it makes my face look remarkably like shiny plastic when it's drying, so I typically hide out when applying it. Again, Charles was sleeping; what did I have to lose? So now, jammies, white cotton socks, braids and a shiny, plasticine face.

Beauty personified.

Then I needed to kill a little time while the mask dried. I busted my butt with a yoga workout and some running yesterday, and I've been really sore all day. I decided to try some restorative yoga poses, the first of which involved scooting my butt up to a wall, laying on my back and propping my legs straight up against the wall. If someone was filming and turned the camera, it would have look like I was sitting on the wall with my back leaning on the floor. (Great stretch for the hamstrings and calves, by the way.)

So now, picture this. Jammies. White cotton socks. Braids. Shiny, plasticine face. Laying on the floor with my feet sticking straight up in the air.

Suddenly I imagined my life as a sitcom. My husband (I'll assume it's Ray Romano, only because Charles sometimes says his voice sounds like Ray's when he hears it played back on videos) would walk into the room, wanting to snuggle or talk or something, ANYTHING, and he'd see me on the floor.

Cue double-take. Horrified expression. Cue husband turning on his heel, running away from his bizarrely clad, vaguely terrifying wife.

Cue laugh track.

It was enough to crack me up, and also make me doubly glad Charles was, in reality, still sleeping on the couch. Now he'll only know of that moment by reading about it...tomorrow...once I've taken out the braids and taken off the socks and look MUCH more like the girl I typically am.

Happy Saturday night. Hope it's wild and crazy!

1 comment:

  1. I love this! Forget a sitcom... I'm picturing you as a sixth grader here. (If we swap the face mask for, say, a homemade mask concoction or having some cucumber slices on your eyes--something out of a teen magazine.) You just need painted toenails and a corded phone that you've dragged over to where you're sitting against the wall. =)

    And-- I used to sit in that position all the time! Yep, while I was on the phone. Such a good stretch. Why don't I do that any more?

    ReplyDelete