Every year when Christmas rolls around, I think of a time I humiliated myself in high school. It was a couple of days before Christmas, and my mom & I were eating lunch across town in some Tex-Mex joint. I was probably 16 or so, and I didn't know what Advent was. I had never seen a calendar, or a nifty display of some doors opened, some closed, to demonstrate the anticipation of Christ's arrival, etc.
So as we were paying at the register, I glanced over and on the counter was a Latino-heavy version of the nativity, with most of the members surrounding the manger...except for baby Jesus. Raising my eyebrows, I demanded of the senorita, "Um? Where's your Jesus? He's missing here...isn't he like the most important part?" She smiled at me and said, "Yes, but he hasn't arrived yet. He arrives on Christmas." I was mortified.
And of course I remember that every year.
In my Type A crunch to get things done during the week - and thereby attempt to free up the weekend - I shot to the grocery store after the gym last night. I flew down the aisles, throwing things into the buggy (it's not a shopping cart; it's a buggy) and then tore to the shortest line I saw. The guy in front of me only had a few items, so I proceeded to completely unload onto the conveyer belt. As the cashier was about halfway through ringing me up, I noticed that I was in the 15-items-or-less express line. The lady behind me, holding a bottle of wine and some crackers, looked at me pointedly. I stood there, sweating in my gym clothes, and wanted to sink into the floor.
But that's not even the worst of it.
Last weekend I bought a cute black and white sweater. It's the kind that hangs down to about my knees, and is pretty flattering. I paired it with a cute pair of black pants, and some black & white heels, and trotted into the office this morning. I'd been feeling so cute and put-together until our receptionist pointed out that the sweater is a lovely shade of navy blue.
I can't win for losing.
No comments:
Post a Comment