Morning has broken

Miscellaneous

After a particularly sweaty and heart-pumping workout, sleep came relatively easy last night. In fact, so easy, that if it weren’t for Simon, there would have been no way I would’ve made it to the store on time.

You see, I work part time at this little boutique here in town, but only on every other Monday and then every Wednesday. Unless it’s Christmas. Or if the schedule changes abruptly, which it does with increasing frequency. I enjoy working at the store, although admittedly it is rather slow and dull now that it’s post-holiday season (thus, less stress and less gift wrapping which for some reason seems to take a maniacally long time when you are the only one working the store and there is a line of customers waiting behind the customer whose package you are wrapping.)

But for some reason, I just couldn’t seem to get going this morning. It’s like my rear end was glued on our chocolate brown couch, watching Matt Lauer in West Virginia go on about the mining tragedy. Couldn’t. Pull. Away. From. The. T. V.

At a first glance, the Morning Routine seemed to go fairly normally and without event. There was the ritual shower which involves 5 steps:
1. Wash hair and apply loads of conditioner.
2. Carefully shave legs and underarms unless it is winter and you are using a dull blade, just give it a brief runover.
3. Exfoliate face with yummy Biotherm face goo.
4. Lather bod w/ appropriately clean-smelling shower gel.
5. Rinse load of conditioner from hair.

These things all went off without a hitch. But when it came to the Fixing of the Hair, things just went downhill. Nothing I did could possibly be right. Then there was the Picking of the Outfit, which was a horrendous disaster.

Finally, it’s 10am and the store should be open. By me. But I’m still in the bathroom, scrambling to put the hair in some semblance of order. I get in the car and scream across town to the store, arriving at 10:07 and I find the other girl there, to my complete surprise.

“Oops! I was supposed to call you to tell you not to come in!”

Ugh. At least I can go home and now fix my hair.

with love,
Rachel

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *