Morning Fog

Just scratch it off with your fingernail

More random thoughts, since those from yesterday went over so well…

I am loving the dry cleaner right now.
You have no idea (or possibly, you do) how little time I have to hand wash, air dry and gently press myself, let alone my fine washables. And I am quite sure that you have no idea the relief I feel when I take an armload of things in and dump it on them to deal with. And then there is the utter joy of a crisply cleaned and pressed clothing item to wear. No dog hair for the moment. Hems are magically back in place and no longer sagging. Spots have vanished. Buttons and those damn hook ‘n eye closures have reappeared. Deep breath, ah, they smell wonderful.

I no longer look askance at dry cleaners. Nay, I bow down before them and promise to keep them in business as long as they keep my things looking good. My favorite pair of slacks is there right now. I am keeping my fingers crossed that they come home safely…I sent them to be repaired since I caught them on the corner of a filing cabinet the other day. Of course my favorite pair. The pair I wore again on Wednesday even though I had just worn them on Monday. I rationalized that with a different sweater,nobody would care. Certainly the kids don’t. And I love them that much that I rationalize how often I can wear them.

If they were like the other trousers (dress code…can’t wear the casual stuff) I have (read: bought at Marshall’s for a fraction of their retail price) I might have tossed ’em. But of course they are the one pair I paid full price for. I love them that much. It takes a mighty fine piece of clothing for me to pay full price without at least holding out for a sale. Having said that, I think I actually have a pair I bought at Marshall’s that cost more, but they were Ralph Lauren and a nice wool and fully lined and while they were expensive, they weren’t as expensive as they would have been in a store, and I am very good at justifying things like that to myself. Anyway, they are my favorites. And I hope they are going to be wearable, otherwise the dry cleaner and I may have to spend some time apart for awhile. You know how it is when your trust is broken. It’s hard to just go on pretending that nothing ever happened.

For many years the dry cleaner was my least favorite thing in the world. It is one task that is nearly impossible to do when you have small children. One city we lived in had a great service that picked up and delivered regularly. That was nice. But I have too many horrible memories of trying to juggle a couple of men’s suits, in those slippery bags, while trying not to drop a baby from my other arm. While holding onto another child. And trying not to lose my purse, car keys, or my footing.

The worst was when we lived in Manhattan and I went everywhere on foot with Jolt in his stroller. It was fine until we had a lot of snow. A lot of snow. Strollers don’t always do well in the snow, anyway. Especially the old, hard, dirty, icy moundy kind or snow. Add a big ole slippery pile of dry cleaning to the mix, and well, you have the very definition of frustration.

But bygones. Bygones. The dry cleaner and I are friends now, and I can’t wait to see my favorite slacks again soon. Let’s hope I can get over my loathing of file cabinets now, shall we?

This might explain why I’m having so much trouble acting my age…I act like I’m only 38!!! I’ll take it!!! Am I pathetic, or what!!!

You Act Like You Are 38 Years Old

You are a thirtysomething at heart. You’ve had a taste of success and true love, but you want more!
You’re responsible, wise, and have enough experience to understand a lot of the world.

You’re at the point in your life where you understand yourself pretty well.
You are figuring out what you want… and how to get it!

What Age Do You Act?
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