We Can't All Be Glamerous

Sunday's coffee

{Sunday's coffee}

Today Jer had to take the morning off so I could go to the DMV and take care of renewing my driver's license. It had been expired for almost three months. THREE.

Afterward, I went to the dentist  for a tooth that I was absolutely convinced had a cavity. The dentist found no cavity, however. He did find in my file though, that I haven't been to see him since March. Of TWO THOUSAND AND NINE. 

For the record, he did call my teeth pristine and admonished me for only ever having one cavity in my life. Not to shabby for thirty, eh?

But really...2009???

Afterward, I went for bloodwork and nearly left because when Jer and I had talked just a few minutes prior, we agreed twenty minutes was an agreeable wait time. It had been 24, however, and the guilt of making Jer *even later* for work nearly overewhelmed me. To the point of leaving and coming back another time with all four of my children. OVER FOUR MINUTES.  

I eat 90% of my meals standing up and probably 75% off of a plate that wasn't mine. Another 20%, I just lean over the counter. After all, a row of Oreo's and a handful of Goldfish doesn't really require a proper place setting, now does it?

I frequently dust with baby wipes, hit restart of the dryer more times than I care to admit, and I often feed my children breakfast on Sunday mornings in their carseats and out of plastic baggies on the way to church. 

There is a continuous stream of brownish apple cores in my Suburban and a pile of muddy shoes on the garage floor that may see the trash before they see clean soles and don't even get me started on the last time I mopped the kitchen floor.  

But really and truly I had no idea the depths of which I have sunk until just the other night when Jer came into the kitchen after a particularly long and grueling day for the both of us. After leaning in for a kiss on my neck while I was elbow deep in dishes, he tried to make light of our previous heavy conversation by complementing my perfume. He told me that it was nice to to have me smelling sweet and that he really liked whatever new brand I was wearing and what exactly was it that I was wearing? 

It was with much chagrin that I finally came clean. 

Eau De Costco...aisle five.

 

What sort of craziness is popping up in {or on} your neck of the woods these days?