'Tis the Season

There comes a time in every woman's life, when she finds herself blogging--dripping naked, except for a single fuzzy blue slipper--because if she doesn't seize the moment, well, the moment will open up its yawp and scream right past her.

So here it is, people. I have arrived at that moment. In less than thirty five minutes I am scheduled to speed up the highway to the Dol's house for a ladies' luncheon where, blessedly, wine will be served. But right now, I'm so fresh from the shower that I'm still streaming water and my hairdryer is nowhere in sight.

The things I do to accommodate Bookgirl and Factor. ENFPs are a demanding bunch, aren't they? It's a good thing they're cute.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I can hear Ms. Liz calling for pictures. Well, I can't do it right now, people. I haven't downloaded the photos from my camera and since both camera and iPhoto are downstairs, centered squarely in houseful of open windows, well, I am naked. I can't be traipsing around on the first floor. If it were February, I might chance it, but at this time of year, between UPS, FedEx, DHL, and USPS, I am pretty sure I can expect the doorbell to ring and a face in the adjacent window.

The truth is, if I were twelve pounds thinner, I might do it just for the thrill. But right now, I'm staying put on the second floor, away from prying eyes.

Only twenty-nine minutes to go. I'm cutting it close, but I promised I would try and trying I am. That ends up being punny if you think about it for a second: I am trying.

After the little tantrum I had last night, I'm sure Mr. Poppins would agree.

So anyway, we had a party. We had family over. We had lovely friends bring us a lasagna for supper and stay to share it. We played Guitar Hero until I got four stars on a song, which is better than three, but not nearly so cool as five. We exchanged gifts with the family, tipped the housekeeper, and put gas in the car--again. We even saw a movie at our brand new multiplex (The Golden Compass, which was great, in case you were wondering).

And then one of us remembered that she is an introvert and started the mad spiral into her meltdown limit. You know, that point (according to the Manny) when even fun is overwhelming and gibbering idiocy ensues. Well, here I am, baby. Love me crazy.

Crazy, naked, dripping water and wearing only a single fuzzy blue slipper. I am sure there is an explanation for the slipper, but isn't it funnier if I don't explain?

I really would love to go on and on but I've only got twenty-three minutes to get presentable enough to jump in my car and head north. As amused as the Dol might be, showing up wearing nothing but a slipper--not even the courtesy of mascara--would probably make her friends, the Ladies, nervous.

So I'm off to preen. And maybe prune. Or deprune because, did I mention, I just got out of the shower?

Whatever,

Comments

[Liz]

Ahhhh. So good to hear from you.

I'm concerned about the slipper. If it's fuzzy then it can't be very good for the water from the shower to hit the fuzziness and make it all wet. It's not a sponge, it's a slipper.

[Rendie]

I am now very curious about the slipper ...

Hope your ladies lunch was a blast! Drink a glass for me.

Cheers!

[anon]

pssst...a perfect score gives you *gold* stars.

[Bookgirl]

I'm so happy!! Thanks, Pol. You really DO love me, don't you??

[Diosa]

Now, I'm going to have you confused with Cinderella.