Saturday, February 05, 2011

Help! I'm Turning into an Old Lady

The day was an extraordinarily busy one. Can I use that as an excuse? I hope so. Anyway, it was January, which means, at work, self evaluation, annual review, and goal-setting time on top of all the other normal work that eight hours every day never seems to be enough time to get done. After work, at 6:00, we had Clare's first puppy obedience class, and after that, we were going to arrive (a bit late) for the deacons' meeting at church (which started at 7:00). I'm not a deacon, but I was attending to propose an idea I had that would involve both elders (I am one of those) and deacons. Bob was attending...well, because he's the minister.

5:00 rolled around, and I was still finishing up responding to emails I'd been putting off responding to all day in favor of other stuff that needed to get done. Somehow, I managed to get them done and breathed a huge sigh of relief to think I still had plenty of time. Then, I remembered that, being a woman, I was married to a man (at least, right now, that's how "marriage" is defined in the state of Pennsylvania). This meant that Bob, being said man, would (sorry, other men who read my blog) work up until the very last minute, make sure he was ready to go, and then expect to leave. It would be up to me to think of such things as feeding the puppy and making sure she'd gone out before we left.

Skip ahead to 5:45. I'm standing outside, still trying to get Clare to "do her business" before we leave. She's busy sniffing around, digging up twigs to eat. Bob comes racing out the door saying, "We must leave now." I'm so flustered -- admittedly, I hadn't realized it was quite so late -- that I rush Clare back into the house to grab my purse and meet Bob at the car.

We've decided, since this is such a short trip, not to bother with Clare's dog carrier, so the 14-minute ride is spent trying to keep her from climbing onto Bob's lap, where she desperately wants to be. Bob's worrying about how late we're going to be (we weren't. We were actually right on time, but we live in Lancaster County, PA, which has its own ideas about time -- Bob and I joke about "real time" and "Lancaster County time". We were there on the dot of six, but everyone else had been sitting around for ten minutes by the time we got there). I was worried about how, since we obviously have very little control over her, Clare was going to be one of those dogs you hear about who flunks obedience school.

Finally, we arrive in the parking lot. With great relief, I open the door, carefully deposit Clare on the pavement, and climb out myself. As we walk towards PetSmart, Bob happens to look down at my feet.

"Oh my God. You're wearing your slippers!" he informs me.

Oh. My. God. I was. And these weren't like those cute Ugg-type slippers that it was very cool for teenagers to wear around town a few years back. No. These are Acorns, with a bright, embarrassing design that brings Spirograph to mind (for those of you old enough to remember Spirograph). I'd worked out and showered at lunch, and slipped into them, planning to change into my boots just before we left. But, obviously, I'd never changed into the boots.

I can't believe it. I've become one of those little old ladies who leaves the house in her slippers. What will be next? A bathrobe and hair curlers? Tell me: should I just shoot myself now?

9 comments:

Bob said...

The obvious solution is to wear those slippers each time you go to PetSmart. I quote from Woody Allen's short story "Remembering Needleman." "At the opera in Milan...Needleman leaned out of his box and fell into the orchestra pit. Too proud to admit it was a mistake, he attended the opera every night for a month and repeated it each time. Soon he developed a mild brain concussion. I pointed out that he could stop falling as his point had been made. He said, 'No. A few more times. It's really not so bad.'"

It's really not so bad, Emily:-)

litlove said...

Dearest Emily, age has nothing to do with it. I did exactly the same thing, 16 years ago, when my son was a little baby and friends came to visit. I was halfway around the village on a walk with them before I noticed. I think it may be down to the fact that you and I are both so busy making sure everyone else has what they need, it's the little details of our own personas that escape us!

Emily Barton said...

Bob, that's a great quote! Yes, maybe I should wear them a few more times to Petsmart and look like I'm starting a new trend.

Litlove, oh, I am so glad to hear it has nothing to do with age, and leave it to you to turn it into a positive: that I'm too busy caring for others to care for myself.

Dorothy W. said...

I'm amazed I haven't done that yet myself. I agree with the others that it doesn't necessarily have to do with age -- just, in my case, with my thoughts being elsewhere, somewhere far, far away from where my body is at the moment!

Courtney said...

Well, I'm going to be honest. Yes, you should probably shoot yourself now. Well, maybe not, I like you too much! And you know what? I own the same slippers. And of course, it's really not that bad! That said, at least you know it is highly unlikely to happen again anytime soon! Thanks for the funny, funny post!

Stefanie said...

Spirograph! I loved my spirograph! Your slipper story made me laugh. I almost went to work once wearing my slippers. I got out to the car and started it up and thought, something doesn't feel right. I glanced at my feet and then, OMG! I had been running late and just hurried out the door not paying attentin to my footwear. James actually got halfway to work once before he realized he was wearing his slippers.

Carrie#K said...

I love Bob's reassuring comment to your story. Trust a man to make that point.

Clearly the thing to do is invest in a pair of slippers that you can pass off in public as shoes.

I once wore mine to a Reformation service (that a SF Symphony director arranged the music for. It was wonderful). Thankfully they were black and were slip-ons but I've got to tell you, I felt really, really weird walking up to the Communion rail.

Emily Barton said...

Dorr, yes, I guess my thoughts are often somewhere nowhere near my body.

Court, you have the same slippers? Wow! And you are right: I have not done it sense, nor do I ever plan to.

Stef, okay, going to work in my slippers would have been much worse. At least I haven't done that yet.

Carrie, oh yes. I must go find some presentable slippers now. Great idea.

Susan said...

LOL!!! Spirograph! I remember that! As for the slippers - hey, maybe the Spirograph made them cool, so you were making a retro fashion statement. Yes, I'd stick with that. though, it's so bad getting old, I hear. Eventually we're expected to show up in our slippers when we're in our 80's!!!

Very cute story, it made me laugh. You are so NOT old, Emily!!