Daily Heart Attack

So, I knew today was going to have a few snags. Any morning that begins with an 8:00 AM booster shot for your toddler has the potential for...high drama. I figured I was just exceptionally lucky when we made it out of the doctor's office with no screaming and only a small meltdown when I left her at school.

I went off to work and tried really hard to focus. It being the day after a very long weekend, my brain had a really hard time remembering what it is we do to make money. So that was fun. Then I got an e-mail notification that I had a new voice mail message. I checked it. It was for my husband--a woman who I didn't know left an exceptionally vague message, the gist of which was "Long time no see; call me and we'll talk more about...that thing."

I did what any curious wife would do--I googled her. And I came across a listing for a DIVORCE LAWYER. Yeah. Hello, Monday!

As I sat at my desk and felt myself turn into a quivering pile of nauseated self-doubt and panic, I tried really hard to listen to the Voice of Reason. The VOR said things like, I bet she does other things. Like Wills. We need to write up a will and you've been pestering him for 2 years to get it done. Or bankruptcy. Maybe this has something to do with those student loans we thought were cleared up but have perhaps never gone away. All the while, mind you, the Voice of Panic is jumping up and down, yelling DIVORCE LAWYER!! SHE SPECIALIZES IN DIVORCE, SEPARATION, AND CUSTODY ISSUES!!!!

After the VOP took a baseball bat to the VOR and I considered telling my boss I had to leave RIGHT NOW, going and picking up C, and checking us into a hotel somewhere while I found my own divorce lawyer, I decided to call my husband and ask him if he wanted to tell me anything, perhaps about why a DIVORCE LAWYER was calling our house?!

Oh--he says--I got a notice about a hearing regarding a case I worked on in 1997 and I was asking her if she thought I needed to be present, considering I'm no longer a member of the Bar. Didn't I tell you about this? Um, no. No you did not. Oh--he says--the County Court office might be calling, too, because I called them to ask as well. Awesome. Thanks for giving me the heads up on that one.

I'm on my second glass of wine right now. I think I might possibly relax at some point before tomorrow. Perhaps. I may also have another glass of wine.

On a completely unrelated note...I started another blog! If you want to see what I think of one of the daily office readings for the day, come visit me at borderlinedivine.blogspot.com. If you couldn't care less what I think about the Bible, that is all good, too. I'll hopefully be blogging here a bit more regularly...as I've said many a time before.

Uniforms

A few weeks ago I bought an outfit. It wasn't a fancy outfit; in fact, I picked it up at Target while getting C some bubble bath. I desperately needed a pair of pants that fit and, well, I was there.

I picked up a pair of army drab cargo pants, a lightweight, beige, crewneck sweater, and a long gray cardigan/shrug...thing.

It is my new favorite outfit. I'm seriously considering picking up another pair of pants and another crewneck sweater. I'd wear it every day if I could. Maybe I should. When one talks about simplification, clothes are a great place to start. My life needs simplifying, and if I didn't have to think about clothes, it might be a great start.

The funny thing is...I've had this outfit before. In fact, I've worn this outfit in various forms since high school when I lifted a pair of my Dad's fatigue pants, cinched the waist, and proclaimed them mine. Sexy? No. Comfortable? Yes. And somehow, very, very, me.

My senior year of high school or freshman year of college, I bought a gray v-necked cardigan from Express. My best friend got one, too. I still have mine. And wear it, often.

In college, I permanently borrowed an old, ratty, beige sweater from a boy with whom I had one of those nebulous relationships (he's not my boyfriend--he's my best friend--but we fool around and I'm not dating anyone because I'm totally hung up on him...you know--nebulous). When I took the sweater, I think I told him I wasn't giving it back. And I never did. I hauled that sweater around for years before I finally binned it.

Somehow, I managed to find working versions of all of these pieces, and when I put them all on it's like wearing armor. Or the Iron Man suit. I feel...Safe? Secure? Me? I love that outfit and wonder why I shouldn't wear it every day.

And, at the same time, I find it strange that clothes seem to have such strong sense memory for me. I'm not terribly interested in clothes (as evidenced by the fact that my new favorite outfit comes from off the rack at Target), yet I find certain things and they bring me right back to the time in my life where they belonged.

A few weeks ago, I was searching the basement for a spare storage tote and came across a bunch of things from college: namely, a UNH baseball cap and a pair of mittens. All of a sudden, I was a sophomore in college again. It was after choir rehearsal and I was getting ready to leave and go to dinner with a group of friends including my not-boyfriend, who was wearing my yellow fleece jacket and those damned mittens. And I remember the girl I was, I remember those friends and how close we were, and I failed to empty and repurpose the container. It's still sitting in the basement while I ask myself why I can't toss an old ball cap and a pair of mittens now over ten years old.

I don't want to go back to my sophomore year in college. I'm happy with my life, with who I am, with the people around me. But, somehow, I can't let go. I'm not ready to bin those foolish mittens yet. Perhaps they're as much a part of my personal uniform as the olive drab trousers, the beige sweater, and the gray cardigan.

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