I am A Vision today, and not a good one. Today was one of those get up, go directly into the studio and work, and don’t even bother to shower or get out of my jammies day. Trouble is, last night I went to sleep in Quite A Get-up.
I had been dressed, but I was wearing good jeans and twice stopped myself from wiping my clay-covered hands on them in the nick of time, so I decided to go put on my jammie bottoms. My red plaid jammie bottoms. And I left my blue and grey argyle socks on. Then I decided I was cold, so I grabbed the nearest sweatshirt, which is your basic heather grey job, only this one also has green shamrocks on it. I topped this concoction with my old robe (don’t want to get my new one dirty), which is bright pink.
Since my hair kept falling into my eyes, I pulled my bangs straight back from my face and secured them with a barrette, thereby completing my transformation from “Looks Pretty Good For Her Age” to “Utter Madwoman Who Probably Collects Cats.”
My husband and daughter are used to me looking weird on studio days, but this is weirder than usual and I sincerely hope that if I keel over dead tonight, they have the sense to change me into decent PJs before they call anyone.
I think it must be the Mom voice echoing in my head: “Wear clean underwear in case you’re in an accident.” I don’t think I’m going to die anytime soon, but then again, who does think that? I just hope when I do, I don’t embarrass myself in the process.
LOUNE, I can never decide whether I should be insulted or flattered by that term.
The day my mother broke her hip and they had to cut her underwear off of her at the hospital, it was fastened with a safety pin. At least she had the humor to laugh at that later.
I worry more about how the house looks if the paramedics have to get in to get me.
Take heart. We never pay attention to what someone is wearing, unless it’s toxic. If you haven’t been wearing it for two months, and can’t be bothered to rearrange to pee, you’re good.
Yesterday morning was Easter Morning. A good time to wear bright springy colors. On the other hand, it was cold. (And it just so happened to be that time of the month when wearing a cream-colored skirt would be asking for trouble). So, after much debate, I put on a long black skirt, a bright colored sweater, and started looking for knee-high stockings in black. Before I knew it, I had 4, none of which matched. A striped one, a spotted one, a rose-patterned one, and a sleek, smooth one. Searched frantically, and I found another sleek smooth one. Slipped into my heels, grabbed my boots, walked out the door, discovered it had snowed.
Slipped out of heels, into boots, went to church.
After all that debate about appropriate footwear, starting with the lack of desirability of wearing open-toed shoes in snowy weather, and the absense of light-colored closed toed dress shoes from my wardrobe, and progressing through a frantic search for matching stockings, I ended up dressed so that no one could see my stockings–the boots and skirt just about overlapped.
I do that all the time. You just KNOW, though, that the one time you are pressed for time and you say “screw it, I’ll wear two different socks” is the one time someone at the office will suggest an authentic Japanese restaurant for lunch.
(I’m pleased to report, btw, that I no longer look like a crazy lady.)
