The Trouble With Stubble

I should have posted this blog story a week ago, but since I am a bad blogger, I am just now getting around to it. Been trying to reach my inner blogginess. Yup, attempting to harness my "blog chi." You catch my drift.

Anyhoo, I wanted to explain a completely normal (for me) Friday at work. It involves a hint of stupidness, a dash of annoying, a pinch of spontaneity, and a dollop of touchy feeliness.

I started with my usual driving around and getting permits signed. I had an appointment first thing in the morning at a very lovely retirement home. I couldn't help but notice what a nice place this was. Heck, maybe when I'm 80, I'll move in too! After ten minutes (of speaking verrry loudly to a nice old man who could hardly hear me), I got my signed permit and I was off to go take on the rest of the world with a new spring in my step. I'm thinking "Alright, it's Friday, I got a permit, it's a beautiful day, the sun is shining, I love my new car...blah blah blah.."

Then I drive around and have zero luck at any other place until I get a phone call from someone I had been "stalking" for a permit. Hooray! I love when people return my calls.

"How funny, I'm in your area right now, may I swing by?"

"Well I'm leaving the house now, but will be back later this afternoon." [I hate hearing this]

"Oh, okay. What time should I come by then?"

"Oooohhh I guess I'll be back at 4:00"

Crap!! This is what goes through my head when this kind of thing happens:

a) I'm an hour and a half away from the mother ship (my office).

b) I'm ALSO an hour and a half away from home.

c) It is now 11:00 a.m.

d) I could just swing by anyway and have him sign it, but that would be rude because we just made an appointment for 4 and I risk him not being there anyway.

e) I could give up for today, but I need this one for tomorrow morning. There's no way around this....I must wait. Criminy!

Given that I now have 5 hours to blow (sigh!), I weigh my options:

a) Go home, hang out for 1 hour, and drive alllllll the way back?

b) Go shopping? (my inner voice, and financial guru Dave Ramsey's screams "No!")

c) Drive around and find things to do (total waste of gas!)

So I drive across town to the local teen and 20-something resale store (where they'll buy your old designer clothing from you) and sell a pair of my Joe's jeans. (my inner voice says, "Cool! I'll make a little money while I kill time. Then maybe I'll spend a little and not feel so bad. How resourceful am I!!")

They end up giving me a whopping $22 for my $170 jeans. Total gyp.

I get back in my car contemplating my next step. It's 12:00 now. Great. Four hours to go. And I'm $22 richer. Neato.

So I back out of the parking lot to get some lunch and nearly run over a couple of teenagers. Sheesh! What is my problem? I like to think of myself as a good driver. Thank God they were around 15 and had enough (not too much, but enough) common sense to dodge me. A few minutes in a retirement home today and I'm driving like a 90 year old!

After lunch I had a BRILLIANT idea. I will get a massage. There is this local chain of massage places and if you're a first time customer, you get a sweet deal. A full body massage for only $39! Ok, so that will blow one more hour! I mean, the jeans really paid for most of it, right? So I schedule my appointment. I'm excited now. This massage is much needed.

About 15 minutes later as I'm getting gas, a thought crossed my mind. "CRAP!" I suddenly realized how I ran around that morning like a bat out of hell and hardly did my hair let alone anything else. So obviously I didn't shave my legs. If I'm wearing jeans and running late, I don't necessarily consider shaving a priority (yeah yeah, judge away!). So I hike up my jeans and do the feel test. I can definitely tell that I need to shave. Dammit. Now this poor lady who has to massage me will also feel it. She is going to think I'm some kind of amazon woman who doesn't shave. Or a hippie. Or that I'm just gross and she'll probably think I don't shower either. Ew.

What am I supposed to do now? I can't cancel the appointment because she specifically stated over the phone that if I don't show, I still pay the fee.

So I sit in my car and contemplate my options at this point. I could:

a) Get a hotel room and shower and shave? (way too expensive and not worth it)

b) Just be hairy? Eeew.

c) Go buy a razor and find a place to shave? But where? And how?

I'm seriously annoyed by now. As if I didn't already get screwed out of the true value of my awesome jeans and nearly steamroll two teenagers. Ugh.

So I get to Chevron and attempt to purchase a razor blade without looking creepy. You know, just in case I choose option C above.

Of course, being inconspicuous is impossible! The cashier had to scream at me upon my arrival, "Can I help ya find somethin' hun?" Me, being the honest person I am tell her yes, a razor blade. She doesn't need to know why. After I purchase my only option, a three-pack of cheap blue men's razor blades, I ask where her restroom is. She proceeds to scream, "You aren't gonna shave are you?"

Nope. Not anymore. Thanks.

So I leave.

I have now decided I need my toes painted for an upcoming wedding that weekend. So I make my way across town to a nail salon. My master plan was to figure something out in their restroom. After my toes dry, I make my way to the restroom. I decide not to use water, but to just hike up my jeans and dry shave as quickly as possible (a trick I learned 10 years ago in Mexico on a church mission trip. Don't ask). I hurry because I don't want them to think I'm doing anything weird in there. Haha. Right.

So I make it to my massage appointment, and my legs feel semi smooth. Don't think she'll notice. I think I've done all I can do. My massage felt great. And I didn't even think about my burning dry shaven legs. Nope, I got into a zen place and had a very relaxing and wonderful hour-long massage. Plus, I never have to see this girl again, so who cares what she thinks of me?

Finally, 4:00 rolled around and I had my long awaited appointment with a nice man who signed my permit. By that time I was so relaxed that I couldn't hold it against him that I had a long, interesting, somewhat frustrating 5 hours spent solely for his convenience.

As he greeted me, he cheerfully asked, "How has your day been?"

And I simply replied with "Great!"

Enough said.

All you can do on days like this is just keep a sense of humor. I was pretty annoyed, but once I realized how humorous my day kept getting, I just had to laugh. (I was by myself, so I probably looked like a complete fool, but I laughed anyhow).

I haven't cleaned out my purse since that day, so every time I go digging around, I come across a cheap blue gas station razor blade and just giggle.

Who does that? Who carries a razor blade in their purse? I better remove that before I have to go to an airport or something.