What a Beautiful Mess?

For the second day in a row I am doing an extra load of unnecessary laundry. I am doing this because I can't seem to keep MYSELF from making messes. My parents used to always talk about having to change into "play clothes" after school. Maybe I ought to start to do the same! I never worried much about it with my own kids, as they just played, all day, at the sitter, or at school, and then at home. They wore easy care fabrics, and no one really cared how their clothes looked due to their cute little smiles. Nightly, I'd throw their stuff in the wash. Well, let's be frank, after a day at work, somedays, I'm just not in smiley mode. So guess that means "play clothes?" For myself? Really? AT 43?

Now if I wear a dress, and even more so, tights or stockings to work, then, yes, by the time I get home I am ready to change. And usually I do change, into something more comfy, before I get into my evening routine of house work, running kids, homework, and dinner prep and cleanup. But yesterday, and today, I had on cute sleeveless tops and capris. Nothing too uncomfy about those, and I figured why not, for a change, go through the evening continuing to look cute, as the clothes were eventually headed to the washer anyways.

Yesterday brought a bit of rain, right at the time we were headed to pick Gwynn up from a softball dinner. When the rain started, Tim was perfectly happy to go, alone, but I said, "Nah, I'll come along to sit in the AC in the car, and to run in and say HI, and THANKS to her coach." On our way there the rain became torrential. As we arrived, again, Tim was perfectly happy to get out, alone, and to go in, but I said, "Nah, I have my work clothes on still anyways, I'll just run, get wet, and that's that." Little did I know "running in" would also involve tripping and "sliding" into "home front porch." Only me. Only me.

Then today, I was still in my work clothes, and making "clean out the fridge" soup. I set the timer to 10 minutes for the final simmer to cook some noodles. I said, "Hmmm, while that simmers maybe I will put all of these spices away." Then PLOP, a bottle slipped out of my hand, and into the boiling soup, splashing all over the front of my comfy work outfit. Into the laundry room I went, again. Sputtering, storming, scrubbing. Again. Only me. Only me.

So this weekend, I need to shop. Perhaps for some new work clothes, as the jury is still out on today's shirt. But more certainly for some "play clothes." And perhaps I should also shop for a writing manual to figure out how to ease up on use of quotation marks - but that's another blog...