The Stupidity Continues

Hadn't meant to go all radio-silence on y'all (if there's any of y'all still reading).  Work has gone and got busy, which isn't something work generally does, so I've put everything else (other than crashing on the couch and watching TV) on the back burner for a bit. 

(Which made for some interesting "party planning" for the big ol' shindig I had celebrating my 40th recently -- as I ended up renting a location I'd never seen and having it catered by a restaurant I've never eaten at.  But more about that later.)

I 'blog today about one of my regular topics -- me being a moron.

Went to a friend's wedding today.  10:30 in the morning.  About an hour away.  Because I was once quite late to a wedding in a fairly obvious manner (her wedding was in a chapel with many windows -- watch the video and you can see me running in late in the background) I wanted to leave at 9:00.  Have that extra half hour.  Just in case.

I'm still not sure what went wrong -- knowing me, it was my "five minute email check" -- all I know is that I got out of the shower at about 8:52, and I was thinking:  this is not good.

8:52!  Much cursing. 

Short-sleeve red dress or sleeveless black dress?  Haven't worn the red dress in awhile, don't know how it fits.  Black dress fits.  Besides, red will stand out.  Black dress it is.

Need black shoes.  Get black shoes from plastic shoebox.

No stockings, so I need to put powder in the bottom of the shoes.

Stupid freakin' powder thing won't open.  (More cursing.)

Keep pulling at lid on powder thing.

Have mental image of powder thing flying open, spraying me, dress, and closet with white powder. 

Calm down.  Gently open powder thing.  Put powder in shoes.

Put on undergarments.  Usually put on deodorant at this stage of getting dressed, but figure I'll put on the dress first.  It's sleeveless, so I can do the deodorant after, thereby avoiding the little white marks on the dress.

Put dress on.  Put goo in hair.  Put hairspray in hair.

It's now 9:10.  Curse.  Curse.  Curse.

Put necklace on self.  Amazingly, the clasp catches on the first try.  Put earrings on.  Drop one.  Dammit.  Find earring.  Put it on.

Hair looks like crap.  Re-part it.  More hairspray.

Can't leave without feeding cat.  Change cat's water dish.  Clean food bowl.  Put food in clean bowl. 

No time for makeup.  Grab makeup.  Grab purse.  (Way no time to switch to nice black clutch.)  Leave house. 

I've grabbed the Netflix envelope.  Do I run it to the mailbox or just leave it in my car?  Dither.  Take the stairs.  Mail the Netflix.  Go to the garage.

In the car at 9:24.  Tooling down the road, doing about 70.  OK, 80.  There's likely to be traffic, so I'll need every minute I can make up by insanely speeding.

9:45, I realize I never put on the damn deoderant.  I flap my arms around, like this will help.

9:55, I realize I didn't bring a little shoulder wrap in case it gets cold in the hall where the reception is.

10:00, I hit traffic.

10:22, I arrive at my destination, makeup in hand.  I have a moment's indecision between self-parking and $6 for the valet, but this is clearly a case where ponying up the cash is the way to go.  Leave my car with the valet.  Am inches away from walking off with my keys in my hand, but, at the last second, realize the valet might need them.

Say some hellos. 

Look for the restroom.  Video guy tries to stop me, asks me to say something nice on video for the bride and groom.  I say (directly to the camera, as it turns out), "I'm looking for the restroom" and duck away.  This will make a lovely addition to their wedding video.

I keep looking for the restroom.  There isn't one.  Well, no, there is.  There's one that says "Men," and another that says "Reserved for bridal party only."  But there's a (poorly-lit) mirror in the sort of anteroom where the bathrooms are, so I just put on my makeup right there.

I'm set.  Let's have this wedding!

Around 10:40, it dawns on me that the lack of deodorant is the least of my problems.  The wedding is outdoors and I didn't put on any damn sunscreen.  And no wrap either.

Yeah.  It's a lovely moment when you realize you're going to get really sunburnt and there's nothing you can do about it.  I actually thought I was doing OK, as sunburn has this apparently magical quality of not actually showing up for a couple hours.  I was fine during the ceremony, fine during the cocktail hour, and fine during the (indoor) reception.  (Although at some point during the reception, it was pointed out that my shoulders "looked a little pink.")

I really only noticed it in the car while driving home.  Which was itself a lovely journey, as the valet said my front left tire was really low, and it had looked like I was pretty much driving on the rim when I came tearing in there, and he'd put air in it.  Twice.  So I was sorta hoping my tire would make it all the way home, and I was trying to decide whether I should go directly to the tire place (in all my wedding finery) or if maybe I should go home first, lose the shoes, and dive into a bottle of Solarcaine.  But I kept feeling the sun beating in on my shoulder through the driver's side window, and it way wasn't helping.  Came home first to deal with the sunburn and change into something more comfortable, when I realized I don't have any strapless tops.

OK, sure, I don't think I've owned a tube top since the early 80s, but there's definitely a time and place for these things.  Like now, for instance.

Epilogue:  Tire held.  Quite well, actually.  I'm gonna see if it deflates overnight.  Shoulders bright red (and on my back too).  Wedding was lovely (and ended up being quite fun, as I knew rather more people there than I thought I would) although, all things considered, even though I technically got there on time, I still think maybe this should go in the column of "weddings I was late to."