Some days I feel like I have it all together.
Other times, things like this happen:
I have too many things to do this week and too little time to do them. So instead of eating lunch today, I went out to paint the edges of my porch floor. It doesn’t take long and I figured I could just roll the middle part of the floor after work today.
So I’m out on the porch around lunch time, in my painting pants (ten years old and with dozens of paint colors liberally represented), an equally disreputable tshirt, no make up and dirty hair. In fairly short order I’m also sweaty, because after 40 degree temperatures last weekend, it’s now 86 degrees. I’m not a very tidy painter (see above) so I’ve got a decent amount of dark grey paint on my hands and feet. It’s paint, but it looks fairly grimy.
And of course, who should come down the street but two lovely and elegant friends, wearing their spring dresses and looking fresh and happy and pretty as daisies. I chatted with them for a while before I went inside, looked in a mirror for the first time today, and realized the true extent of the contrast between those friends and me at that moment. And that my zipper was down.
Now, obviously I’m painting a floor, not going out to dinner. And I’m not completely superficial – I’ve had a good day regardless of the state of my hair. But if there is some connection (and I think sometimes that there is) between my outward appearance and my inner serenity and poise, then I’m not exactly putting my best paint-covered foot forward here. I should really try to do better once I get this floor finished.
Key phrase. “at that momment”. They would not look like pretty daises if they were out painting a porch today either. One downside of a village location is you are likely to see folks whatever you are doing. (Rented a little place on your street for 6 yrs. I had my shades drawn much of the time. Even with a porch it can feel like a fish bowl.)