Yesterday, I woke late. I really wanted to use it as an excuse not to go to church. I was feeling edgy and thought it was a good idea to avoid people until I felt nice again.
But I knew I'd feel better if I went.
Plus church gives me the chance to wear some of my favorite shoes. For this Sunday, it was a fantastic pair of wing-tips with HIGH heels that make me want to admire my feet under the pew. The kids call them my witch shoes. Because of how they look, I hope, and not because they reflect how I behave when I wear them.
The shirt I wanted to wear wasn't ironed. So I had to pull the ironing board out of the coat closet in my office and the iron out of the cabinet in the laundry room and hunt down the water bottle in the kids bathroom (Why don't I keep all this stuff in the same place?).
So I had to wear my hair curly. . .
to save time.
Which reminded me that I really need a hair appointment but, you know, we are in a recession. So my roots had to show and it really made me want a lemon curd shortbread bar and grilled green onions, not together, of course.
We were late for church . . .
We had to sit on the hard folding chairs in the back. Which made me want to tap my wing-tipped witch shoes on the hard wood floor. I didn't. Instead. I watched my Viking Princess color pretty ponies. And I wondered why we all can't sit on the floor, sometimes, with a box of bright crayons. Because every church going kid knows metal folding chairs make fantastic art tables.