The girls go out on Thursday nights. M2 is done babysitting (her summer job) and so we'll trade weeks . . . one week out by Princess and M2, the next near me. So yesterday I called M2 to see if we were going out "because I need to make a decision. I'm not going to put my makeup on if we are not going out." M2 was very amused. It was 5 p.m. and it was the big decision of the day.
So I admit it . . . I putter around. I don't get dressed until 4. I stay up until 4 a.m. Soon enough, I will have to join the real world again. I know it's awful.
Tonight, I'm going to Lord and Taylor to shop for school clothes (that whole English teacher wardrobe problem) and tomorrow is Marshall Field's warehouse sale, so I'll have to be up by 6:30 to get to Starbucks before. Ahhh . . . Starbucks . . . (Homer Simpson donut voice here)
The problem with the warehouse sale are there are two schools of thought: get there early and stand in line with all the B'ham daughters and mommies and deal with the riot, or come at 3 p.m. after everything has been picked over, with the shopping philosophy that if it was meant to be yours it will be there. This time is the line standing, cause I need an ottoman. Thank goodness I have a truck.
Oh, and match.com is way more fun than eharmony. Who knew.
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