Good Morning Sally Hansen

I am not a morning person. My son follows in my footsteps and usually sleeps in. Sundays are different. Church starts at 9am on Sundays. I also spend about 150% more time on getting ready on Sundays, so I have to wake up at 7:30. Do the math, and you'll find I don't spend any time getting ready on other mornings (that is if I did the math right). Dirk, who wakes up around 5am every morning laughs at me for this.

I hate morning showers. Morning showers are so invasive. They disrupt my calm sleepiness. They require me to shed my cozy pj's. They wash away my eye boogers that help me stay sleepy. I hate morning showers.

Yesterday was a little different. Not with the hating it part. Oh, I still hated it. But I just bought a super cute new skirt, and I was excited to wear it this morning. I splurged. I went shopping at the outlet malls, and Julie made me do it. I'm blaming it on Julie. I spent $35 on a skirt at Banana Republic- my coveted store. I never (ahem... rarely) spend that much on a single item of clothing. This was the only thing I bought for myself that shopping trip- that and a new toaster.

My skirt was perfect. I couldn't wait to wear it. I also had a new necklace to wear, which I bought from a little surf shop last week. I couldn't wait. I was sure to be the cute, trendy, Relief Society lady that day.

I woke up with a pinched nerve in my back. I kept going. Happens all the time. Pop an 800 mg ibuprofen. No problem.

I couldn't open my eyes. I slept with my contacts in. Those eye boogers I love so much had completely taken over my eyes. I looked like a creature out of one of Dirk's sci-fi channel specials. At least I think that's what I looked like. I couldn't really see. I stumbled my way into the invasive early morning shower. I hate Sunday mornings.

After my shower I put on my perfectly planned out new attire. The skirt looks amazing with my new $4 tee from Walmart. It is a white cotton skirt with pretty detail and it accentuates my new tan oh so nicely. I check out my newly shaven legs, and then I look down and see my terrible toe nails. I don't do pedicures. They're a waste of money for me. I wear flip flops almost year round. You'd think this constitutes the need for a pedicure, but not me. I spend way to much time getting my toes dirty. I clean them and paint them myself. In the summer months (which is now), I tend to need to take steel wool to my toes while in the shower, in order to get the dirt out. I forgot the steel wool this morning. I scrub them a little with a wash cloth, and figure a fresh coat of paint on top will do the trick. I pull out my hot pink Sally Hansen friend and apply.

Crap! I got a little on my thumb. (You thought I was going to get nail polish on my skirt, didn't you?)....

I opened the bottle of nail polish remover and proceeded to poor it all over me. It seeped through my skirt and found it's way into girl parts, you really wouldn't want nail polish remover to find it's way into. Wow, did it burn! I was more upset about the skirt. I had Dirk help me get it off- my hot pink polish was still wet- As I carefully stepped out of my new skirt, which now reeked of Sally Hansen's best polish remover, I cursed Sunday mornings! I hopped back into the shower (with my hair already blow dried and my make up already applied) to rid my body of the smelly chemical, before it could make me infertile.

I decided this wasn't going to ruin my morning. Gosh darn it, I was going to church (we've been sort of bad about that lately), and I was going to look cute! I cleaned up my skirt- thank goodness for oxy clean stain spray- and threw it in the dryer. I found my shirt I had discarded, and discovered lovely deodorant marks on my bran new chocolate brown shirt. Maybe they were still fresh and I could save it?? I tried. I think it worked. I never really looked back at it again, so for all I know, I was walking around yesterday with deodorant on my boob. Oh well, I'm sure my necklace covered it.

I went to eat breakfast. I burnt my toast. I went to put my contacts back in. I hoped they had sat long enough to clean out all the guey-ness. I looked in the mirror and my eyes were bright red and blood shot. How did I not notice this before? I pulled my skirt out of the dryer, put it on without even smelling it. I started to reminisce about a day in high school when I broke my Clinique Happy perfume all over my new trench coat and went to school with it anyway- only to find that everyone was gagging near me. Oh well. I looked fabulous. I'd just blame the weird smell on Hayden.

We went to church. Came home. Walked in the door, and our house was fragrant of Sally Hansen's best. Did I mention I hate Sundays?