Skipping Through the Day

Oh my, what a day…

As I’m sure you have many more important things to think about, I will skip the part where I didn’t sit down between the hours of 6am and 4pm.  If I had known the car ride to work would be my only real chance to sit, I would have kicked on the heated seats and had a spa moment.

I will skip the part of my afternoon when my button popped off my pants as I was fastening them and flew across the room, never to be seen again, leaving the hook to brave it alone because earlier that morning I broke the zipper.

I will skip the part where I finally got my breakfast out at 11am, to watch it knocked over by a child trying to give me a handmade card, who then helped clean it up with his own little fingers after I had watched him pick his nose on the way into the office.

I will skip all of that and go straight to the icing on the cake.  Someone was hurt at work today and being the dutiful doctor’s daughter, I was first in line to help with the bloody injuries.  (My mother would point out here how squeamish I was when I was younger … age, multiple surgeries, and having children alter what makes you queasy).

I thought I had gotten the bleeding to stop but a big sneeze sent a whole new wave of blood skydiving right for my shirt.  I spent the next few minutes packing gauze in all of the right places, and several minutes after that, looking for something to change in to.  Since there isn’t a spare wardrobe just for me anywhere near by, I settled for an old t-shirt I found in the closet.

This t-shirt would have been too small for my daughter, but there I stood in the bathroom fighting with the suddenly stretched cotton to contain everything it was never made to cover.  I surveyed the results of my struggles and couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry at the image of me at work looking like a busted can of biscuits in this tiny shirt and open-fly pants.

The white shirt was screaming for mercy and showing everything God gave me underneath.  The hook on my pants was fighting for it’s life with no help from the zipper or button that went awol.

I spent a solid 45 minutes in this sad state of affairs, watching the stares and grins, until a generous colleague took pity on me.  He offered an extra t-shirt he had and encouraged me to change into a grown up size clothes.

Oh my, what a day…

On the flip side, did you know Outback delivers now?  The delivery boy didn’t understand my tears of joy when he handed me my first meal of the day, but he’s young.  He’ll understand one day.








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