Well, I was determined that this morning I would make it on time! Did I mention that I teach a class? I know, I should be there early, I know this, I do but.... I have no good explanation. Being on time just seems to be beyond my grasp. I woke up early this morning, showered, ironed my clothes, even had breakfast with time to spare.
I went to dry my hair and it was not in a corporative mood! It misbehaved in a different fashion that it has ever misbehaved before. I twisted the brush every whicha way, put the heat to it, used brushes made to tame the unruliest of locks, and nothing worked. I used two different products. (I hate using products on my hair!) The second product I used, I kid you not, smelled like a dead rat! I'm sorry, but I am from Alabama and I know what a dead rat smells like and that is the exact aroma this particular product oozed.
So, now I'm spraying every pleasantly fragrant thing I can find on my messy mop to cover up the horrid odor! Finally, I decide to leave smelling like, actually I have no idea what I smelled like at that point. My olfactory system was extremely overloaded and decided to go on strike.
My hair at this point is passable so I head out the door only to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Oh no! The blouse that matched my skirt in such a lovely way in my bedroom mirror screamed, "CLASH" in the natural light. So I raced back to my closet flinging hangers this way and that until I find a nondescript beigey number that should go with anything and head out the door again, with lipstick streaking the inside of my blouse and jewelry that doesn't hang at the right height for this blouse, but I go anyway.
Now my dilemma is how many times can a Sunday School teacher be late before she is fired? Not that they really fire Sunday School teachers, but you know what I mean. Would it be better to be late, or to sin by breaking the laws of the land and race at break-neck speed down the highway? If you've ever ridden with me or seen me on the road Don't think I don't hear you saying to your monitor out loud, "be late, be late!" (I am not the greatest of drivers at normal speed.) Okay, so I only sped a tiny bit and was fashionably late, if you can call breathless, and dripping with nervous sweat fashionable.
I guess I'll have to get dressed Saturday night and sleep sitting up if I want to make it on time for Sunday School next week.