You Look Like You Need It…
A few weekends ago, Marc and I needed to check off some things that had been lingering on our to-do list for far too long. One of the items was to bring two of our large comforters to the laundromat so we could use their jumbo size washers and dryers. We decided to park in their parking lot, drop off the comforters and then head to a local coffee shop for lunch with baby in tow.
While Marc waited outside of the laundromat with Will in the carriage, I ran inside and shoved the first comforter into the front-loaded washer. Just as I gave it one last heave-ho, I felt and saw white flecks of powdered detergent fly into the air and land in my hair and on my face. Awesome! I quickly gave myself a few brushes with my hand, started that load and then got the second comforter in and running. When I went back outside I asked Marc if he could brush me off, because I knew there were probably more flecks lingering in my hair and on my shoulders. He helped me out and then he told me I'd have to let my hair down to give it a shake. When I had finished doing this and had put my hair back up, he told me I looked good (Remember this part!).
Fast forward to the coffee shop, where I decided I would run in and order for us while Marc waited outside with Will, since it was warm and beautiful outside. While I was waiting for our sandwiches and coffees, an older lady who had ordered a mocha latte got her drink from the counter and then turned toward me. "Do you want my chocolate?" she asked, looking at the chocolate stick that was placed on top of her drink. "Sure!" I replied. I mean, who doesn't want their chocolate stick?! For a split second I thought how nice this lady was and what a bonus treat I had just gotten but then she dealt me a low blow and said, "You look like you need it." Hmmmm....I know what that means. It means I look like I'm dog-tired and disheveled, both of which were true. When I finally got our drinks and sandwiches I went back outside to Marc and laughingly told him the story of the chocolate stick. Don't worry, my feelings weren't hurt.
Fast forward again to the laundromat where we waited for the two comforters to dry in the "junior turbo" dryers. (Isn't that an oxymoron?) Marc stood up with Will, who was starting to fuss, and mentioned that I still had a few flakes of powdered detergent in my hair. Still?! I tried to pat them out with my hand, but they were still there. "I thought you told me I got them all out BEFORE we went to the coffee shop?"
"Well, it looked like they were all gone, but now I can see more." Here's the picture that Marc took to show me what my hair looked like:
No wonder I looked like I needed an extra boost to get me through the day! ;)