Listening to: The Postal Service, "Such Great Heights"; Guster, "The Captain"
First: Went to run some errands. Had to drop of my dress and Husband's suit for his company holiday party next weekend for some cleaning of the dry variety.
It was a slightly comedic adventure.
First I decided to try on another dress, just in case I might like it better than the one I planned on wearing (both are my sister's bridesmaid's dresses from weddings she's participated in). The second, less likely choice is an odd dress--it has a partially open back. It zips up to just above the top of the butt, then it's open for a little bit, and then there are two wide pieces of ruched material, dotted with gems, that meet in the middle and are connected by four (hidden) hook clasps.
Well, I thought (hoped) I could get the dress over my head and fully onto my body without unhooking the clasps, since I was alone and had no one to hook them back up for me. No such luck...the hooked section stopped firmly at my shoulders.
So then I unhooked two clasps and tried again. This time, I got further...but not as far as I would've liked. I tried a little too hard to get the dress past my shoulders, and was a little too successful. It got past my shoulders, all right...and then got stuck there. It didn't want to go up, and it definitely didn't want to go down any further.
For about a minute and a half, I struggled furiously, my arms stuck above my head at an awkward angle, desperately trying to get out of the damn dress and praying that I wouldn't still be stuck in it when the Husband got home (boy would that have been a story). Somehow, I managed to wrench free of the damn thing after a lot of thrashing about. It was really one of those moments when you wish you had someone there, not so they can help you, but so they can laugh with you.
I got dressed (after firmly deciding that I would not wear the 2nd choice dress next weekend, even though I didn't succeed in fully trying it on) and gathered up Husband's suit and topcoat. Flew off to the dry-cleaner's.
We're protected from the wind here, since we're situated on the downslope of a hill. Once I got up to the main road, though, I discovered how truly nasty it was. I have a large-ish car, but I could definitely feel the wind gusts as I drove.
Arrived at the dry cleaner and grabbed the various items of clothing from the backseat. As I stepped back with my armful of hangers and plastic bags, I reached out to shut the door--but the wind beat me to it.
Turned to walk the short distance to the cleaner's, and discovered that my door wasn't the only thing the wind wanted. It also wanted my dress. True story: That dress was flying above me, and I almost lost my grip on the hanger as the wind tugged and pulled with all its might. I staggered toward the cleaner's, grateful that someone was exiting as I reached the door--because it took two hands to keep my clothes (the ones I was carrying, not the ones I was wearing) from flitting away.
Luckily, that was the end of my adventures. I made it from the dry cleaner's to the grocery store, and from the grocery store to home, without being whisked away by a strong wind.
But I had a thought, one that I frequently have, when I reached the house. I don't understand why, in spooky stories and movies and such, midnight is considered "the scary time". Twilight is really where it's at. It's not that it's scary, or even spooky, necessarily...but just that, when the sun has just dipped below the horizon and the last bits of light are fading from the sky...and the trees are black silhouettes against the indigo of the sky...well, it just seems that anything can happen, good or bad. And it's just a short time, so quick and then, before you even realize it, night is upon you.
Forget midnight...twilight's the place to be.
Three posts in one day...I've been drinking coffee since I woke up, so we'll blame it on that. I'm feeling...chatty. Good thing we're going out tonight, or I might talk Husband's ear right off.
If you don't feel that you are possibly on the edge of humiliating yourself, of losing control of the whole thing, then possibly what you are doing isn't very vital. If you don't feel like you are writing somewhat over your head, why do it? If you don't have some doubt of your authority to tell this story, then you are not trying to tell enough. --John Irving