What a crazy week. I have had changed appointments, misscheduled appointments, totally missed appointments and so on. What is it with this week? The first full school and work week in nearly a month....actually no, thanks to the Monday celebration honoring Dr. Martin Luther King. Yesterday came the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back. I was one more time in this hectic week rushing out to an apppointment and so very late. I wore a crocheted skirt that I love and found myself puzzling as to why I so seldom wear it.
Five minutes after slipping into the slip on skirt, my much beloved charm bracelet had picked it three times. And not just tiny picks, these practically ripped the skirt in thirds. Now in full on damage and time control, off came the bracelet. But as time would tell, sadly on stayed the skirt.
I rushed out of the house, now in a total tiz, but finally at least on my way. How late am I....eight....ten minutes already? But I am on my way. I jumped into my car, more accurately into Adrian's car as I am currently carless. I screamed into the Tate parking lot, on two wheels I am sure. I jumped out of the car....deep breaths.....composure.....smile.... much better now. Just as I reached the office door, from the very corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of ...something....what is that hanging on the hem of my skirt? Oh no, it can't be, but it is....a bra......trailing me across the parking lot, hanging on by its tiny clasp hopelessly entangled in my 'oh now I remember why I never wear it' skirt. This has to be my worst fashion flub since I one day wore pajama pants under my regular pants to work at Springs. Having not yet entered the Tate office and fervently hoping this happens only once per career, I was thankfully unseen by at least most of my colleagues. But, across the way, how many patrons of the bustling January tax office saw my contraband? How many do I see pointing, smirking, laughing?
Were the bra an ample 36 D or more, maybe I could laugh this off. I could perhaps even proudly drag such a brassiere hanging on my cute skirt into work or anywhere else. As it were, my 32 B....okay... maybe A .... just didn't allow that luxury. Maybe I could blame this on Kate....yes, yes, this must be her lingerie clinging to the hem of my crocheted skirt. But anyone who has seen Kate lately knows that she has, how shall I say, blossomed far beyond the dimensions of this delicate undergarment.
What's the old saying, "Momma said there'd be days like this." What did Momma say about weeks....and bra sizes?
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