One of the things I have promised myself to work on is to make myself take time for me. Even saying that sounds selfish, since I feel like, ya know, I do drive to work and that’s at least ten minutes I have without a child on me. Isn’t that enough? WHY ISN’T THAT ENOUGH, SARAH? But in reality, it’s not, and I have to convince myself on a daily basis that it’s OKAY for me to not pick up the baby the minute I leave work.
Today was one of those days. We had a fire in our building, the alarm didn’t work, an entire wing of our employees were not alerted about the fire.. everyone was fine, THANK GOD, but I left work in a huff around noon. I thought about picking up the baby since, you know, I wasn’t at work.
This is a constant form of Mommy-Guilt. I am not at work; therefore, I should have the child with me. I will beat myself up about this every day when I leave work. I need to run to the store, but I should get the child first. Right? (Of course not. The child will not suffer from another half hour in daycare.)
(Or, you know, three hours. Like today. Whatevs.)
Anyway, so I decide to go wander around in our little Jones Valley promenade. I park outside of Bed, Bath, and Beyond and totally go immerse myself inside. I mentally redecorate our entire house, as well as plan a new table setting. I also asked where they stocked their Furminators. (Answer: they don’t.) After a good hour, I left the store and wandered down to Target.
Target so easily consumes me. It serves as a time-space continuum where entire days are lost. All I had to show for the next hour and a half was a box of hair color and a box of Andes mints. (Help me: who made peppermint brownies in the last week? Where can I find that recipe? Was that Swistle?) I paid for my hair color and mints and left the store, heading out to the parking lot where I always park when I go to Target.
And my car was not there.
At first, I giggled to myself, figuring that I must’ve been in the wrong row. I hit my keyless entry, waiting for my horn to sound so I could locate the car. NOTHING. I turned back to the store, trying desperately to retrace my steps on the way in so I could figure out the general area of my car. Simply put, my car was. not. there.
I began to panic. I cried. I was most concerned about my work laptop, since my company has made the news not once - or twice - but three times in the last year for stolen laptops that contained company proprietary data and personally identifiable information. I called Bryan, but he didn’t answer. I was sobbing and about to dial 911 to report my car stolen when..
.. I realized I hadn’t parked at Target. Faithful readers, do YOU remember where I’d parked?
Yeah. Bed, Bath, and Beyond. Which is not Target.
In other news, I grabbed the wrong box of hair color and now my hair is ugly.
How was your Friday?
