Kids, Don't Make Fun of the Crazy Lady. She Just Might Be You Someday.

It started at 8:05 in the morning with my mother waking Phil and me up because I forgot to set the alarm. Phil had a doctor's appointment scheduled for 8:15 right up the street. 

I jumped up and put my feet into my trusty flip flops that were right next to the bed where I left them the night before. Phil and I hurried next door.  We were borrowing our neighbor's car and luckily I got the keys from her the previous evening so we did not have to waste anymore time.

After I dropped him off only 2 minutes late, I turned the car around and drove home to get my contacts in, throw my hair up in my always fashionable pony tail, brush my teeth, put on a bra (yes, I left the house earlier without one) and grab my purse.  At this point, my mother was just leaving the house and she stopped to say something to me of which I cannot quite remember but she definitely saw me.

I raced back up the street to pick Phil up because his appointment was just a quick one. We drove over to the center of Westwood and I went into Walgreens where it took a bit because the guy behind the counter did not understand how to adjust the price of my Nuvigil. That meant I had to wait for the pharmacist to do so. My doctor had given me a prescription plan card from Teva Pharmaceuticals and though it baffles the mind of the average pharmacy tech, it is totally worth the wait because it brings the cost from my insurance's normal third tier price of $60 to just $10.  For $50 savings I probably could tolerate just about anything.

After Walgreens I stopped by High Street Market which is the next door down in the strip mall. Actually calling the shops in Westwood center a strip mall is over selling it quite a bit. If you blinked your eyes while driving down 109 you probably would miss the entire center of Westwood.  But anyhow, I went there to get a cranberry walnut muffin because I had not had breakfast yet and I was starving. 

When we got home, we pulled into the neighbor's driveway and I went in to her house to return the keys. She and I exchanged a couple of pleasantries which ended in something like, "Whenever Phil needs the car feel free to borrow it".

To which I asked, "Just Phil?  What about me?" 

Over the years I have found that Phil must be the more likeable one in our relationship. So her response was pretty predictable and, hopefully, half joking, "Well if you need it just make sure you have Phil with you."

The rest of my morning and into the beginning of the afternoon I watched Doctor Who reruns as I worked on my blog Lumpy Louise.  Then just after 1 PM I did some sick dance moves for Phil (sick is used there in its true meaning not what it means in slang today). I did this while I ate a slice of leftover pizza for lunch.

I know you are wondering why I would do such a thing.  Let me explain. Sometimes I am just happy and break out into dance.  I dance when I get new shoes (the shoes are on my feet of course) and sometimes when I am eating something that pleases me like pizza.  I dance when I am cooking because I love to cook.  I also dance when I wear a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up because Phil thinks I look like an Ewok and not to brag or nothing, but I am pretty good at doing the Ewok dance.  I just dance, OK.  It's what I do.

This time though I came to a disappointing conclusion.  I am never going to be able to pop and lock without looking ridiculous.  This rules out certain dances moves like the Robot and the Cabbage Patch, the very two my husband was requesting me to perform.  Though this was upsetting, I sucked it up and informed him that I just have to stick with the Twist and Watusi and other more free flowing moves.  He agreed.

I am not telling you all this to bore you with the mundane details of my life.  I am just trying to make a point that there were no fewer than a dozen people who saw me. To top that off  I was only about 4 feet from my loving husband when I felt the need to show off my mesmerizing albeit slightly pathetic ability to dance. Which is definitely close enough that he should have seen it. Then again maybe I am much better than I thought at dancing and he just watched in amazement without noticing anything off kilter.

That brings us to just about 6 hours after I was forcibly awoken by my mom. At this point I decided I should get some laundry done.  As I was picking some clothes off the floor that did not quite make it to the basket (this happens much more often than I'd like to admit probably because I never quite do enough laundry and the basket sits overflowing most of the time) I was shocked to find my flip flops were on the wrong feet.  I tried to think back hoping that at some point I had taken them off and didn't waste a quarter of my day looking ridiculous.

Well, my friends, I have to admit that there was no point in which my flip flops left my feet since I slipped them on at 8:05 AM.

So let me tell you what I learned from this experience: 

First, I am beginning to think that the people in my life and possible others in public now view me as a crazy lady and when they see me doing odd things they just say to themselves, "Oh, that's just Crazy Lady Janet".

Second, feet feel so much better when wearing flip flops properly.

And third, maybe I should try my pop and lock moves with my shoes on the right feet...yeah, no.  I still can't do it.