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Laundry. Pack enough underwear that I could change 3x daily and still have enough.
Wash my hair to save time tomorrow.
Eat anything in the fridge that might go bad in the next four days.
No, scratch that. Already my pants feel tight from all this dining out.
Eat anything in the fridge that might go bad in the next four days.
…
It would be wasteful not to eat the food before it perishes. Has your mother taught you anything?
Eat anything in the fridge that might go bad in the next four days.
…
Restock treats from doggy bakery, and something for Edward.
Double-check all driving routes for road closures and suspicious detours that lead into the backcountry.
Create a shopping list for anything I need to buy from the fabric store.
Check tire pressure on the car.
Get a burner phone with an out-of-state number and call Eli as many times as it takes for him to pick up and ask him if he’s engaged whilst doing my best British accent.
…Make that Australian. I’ve watched one too many episodes of Crocodile Dundee and feel I could pull that off more realistically.
…Seek psychiatric care.
With my day being almost entirely booked before our evening with Samantha and our class, I got the wind under my sails to get moving.
While my hair was up in a towel and my bathrobe on tight, I started multi-tasking around the house, giving my frizzy hair time to dry out before I blow-dried it. Opening the fridge, I found a half-eaten container of vanilla yogurt and some eggs. The latter wouldn’t spoil, so I took the yogurt and cut up the borderlinebananas that were browning away on my counter and mixed them in, adding in a few pieces of shaved chocolate. The fridge was already emptier. It sure felt good to already accomplish something for the day.
I opened my laptop while I munched on the snack that wasn’t nearly as tasteful as I thought it would be, and I checked my driving route. It had been some time since I’d made the journey, and it appeared a new freeway had been constructed since the last time, cutting our driving time down by an hour but also introducing unfamiliar territory in its place.
“What do you think, Dolly? Should we take the shortcut tomorrow?”
She tilted her head at my question. I closed the laptop and felt a mental breakdown coming on. The events of the week were fun but also very tiring. I didn’t realize until now just how much I needed a trip home to recharge and regroup. I choked back tears, remembering breakdowns were things we needed to schedule in advance.
“Virtual assistant: Schedule my complete mental breakdown sans head-shaving for let’s say… next Tuesday at 5:30. That will give me time to change my clothes after work.”
(No response)
“Virtual assistant?”
I looked over at my little machine and saw the light wasn’t illuminated. How strange. I followed the cord to the wall and found it unplugged, remembering I had to plug in my iron instead. I used to talk to this thing several times a day as if it was my friend, and now it had goneunpluggedfor an entire twenty-four hours? I found that amazing. Maybe I was getting normalized into society.
But probably not.
After doing my hair and minimal makeup routine, I decided to jazz it up a bit considering I was going out tonight, thinking about meeting Samantha at the restaurant. I reached for the black matte shadow. Oops, too much. As I buffed it out, it got taller and darker, blending its way into my eyebrows which, let's face it—darker brows don’t look good on anyone. As I tried to buff things out, I picturedSamantha and I meeting a couple of single guys who were out with their little dogs, after they sent over a couple of Pina Paw-Ladas to our table. We would wave back, and my eyes would be extra sparkly since I was now wearing dark green glitter on my lids, as I really needed the contrast to break up the two black eyes it looked like I had now.
Glitter eyeshadow had come a long way since the 90’s. But in place of the ‘cake and flake’ that we’d all come to rely on in the days of iconic pop stars influencing us to wear butterfly clips, three belts worn simultaneously, and a popped collar, the glitter went on smoothly now. The catch? Once applied,it never truly came off again.
Sure, you thought that powerful waterproof eye makeup remover would do the trick?Fat chance.The glitter might be gone from your eyelids, but like a skin rash, it only resurfaces on another part of the body.
I always forget this fact when applying the magical sparkle makeup. Once it was on, I wondered why it was not a regular part of my face routine. It brightened my complete appearance. The sterile lighting of my bathroom gave it an extra kick. It brought out my inner celebrity, and I was accepting my imaginary Oscar when I remembered why I didn’t do it more often. By then, it was too late. I could be sitting in a pew the next morning, praying my fellowship would be forgiving to the blinding shards stuck in my pores. They had no idea I was up late choreographing a new dance for a twenty-year-old song and not out standing on a street corner,or worse, in a line longer than I could comfortably walk at my age about to see a pop singer so young, I could’ve given birth to.
