I think the Monday after a time change should be a holiday. Today has been a
comedy tragedy of errors.
Last night I spent the night with the folks. This means I got up at an ungodly hour to drive in to work. Mom, being the sweet woman she is, always sends me off with a goody bag of sorts. I picked it up, ran out the door, flopped it and my purse on the front seat of the car.
As you know, I’ve had the plague. I’m still not breathing properly. In fact, my nose has been quite bitchy lately. For instance last week, I smelled that gross, heavy, bubblegum smell for 24 whole hours. Then, I smelled blueberries for a full 24 hours. I don’t get it. So, when I smelled vanilla this morning, I thought oh great…here we go again. WRONG.
I get to work and pull my goody bag out of the front seat. Holy hell. There was what appeared to be milk pooled in the front seat of my car….blocked in only by my Prada purse. And, since I had just picked up the goody bag? It was all over my cute black pants and silk top.
Immediately, I scream and drop the goody bag AND my coffee; it splats to the ground and goes all over my boots. I pull out the Prada from it’s milky bath and that sends the liquid streaming back into the seat further. Instinctively, I throw myself on the spill to try and catch the liquid from reaching the far recesses of my car. This, of course, soaks into the sleeves of my jacket and into the tips of my hair. I realize it’s much more sticky than milk and most certainly smells more vanilla.
So here I am. Hanging out of the car, milk all over the place, ruined outfit, sticky hair and a milky purse. It can’t get much worse?
I hear a grunt.
I turn to see that zombie homeless woman from a while back!!!! She was in the same Eat Me shirt. Same vacant stare. And now? She’s grunting at me. I’m faced with two options. 1) Stay and be eaten by the zombie lady or 2) grab my purse and flee
I opted for 2.
I released the liquid, which seeped quickly into the seat (they are cloth, not leather) and deep into the recess of the seat that I can no longer see. I’m pretty sure that car seat will never move the way its supposed to again because how DO you clean the parts you can’t see???
I grab my purse and say, “Hi there” as I back slowly away.
She lunges at me, “Uuhh!”
I scream and run, leaving the beloved goody bag behind in a pool of milky liquid. My purse, drowned in the liquid, is leaking all down the side of my jacket and pants….marking my trail as I run.
She walks over to my goody bag, picks it up and flees.
I look down at myself. I smell vanilla again. The hell was in that bag???? I sniff my jacket sleeves. I sniff my hair, which is now lovely and matted into gummy strands. I see the white stains all over my boots, pants, shirt… I looked like a victim of lactation gone very wrong. This is NOT the look I was attempting today.
On cue, Mom calls. Turns out? It was coffee creamer. Mom bought a mega container, didn’t like the flavor and packed it for me. I let out a little sob when she said, “I had a hard time getting the lid closed. I hope it traveled ok.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her what happened. I just thanked her.
Currently, I’m still washing stains from my clothes. The jacket can go to the cleaners, but I think the shirt is a goner. My boots seem fine, but my hair is now half straight, half curly…and you KNOW how my hair gets without conditioner….The purse smells like a stripper, but I think it will live.
Is it Wine-o-Clock yet?