by Kris Pitcher
In any case. I'm sure of only one thing. I am not perfect. It's not that I go around necessarily thinking I am. It's just when the universe reminds you, it's kind of comical.
Yesterday my husband looked at me longingly while we were eating dinner. I smiled and nearly put down my spoon. "Can I get that?" He asked about the GIANT pimple that had presented itself on my chin. "Maybe later." I sighed. Not. Perfect.
At the gym he held my gaze after we'd had a l-o-n-g conversation with a friend. "You've got lipstick on your teeth." He said. Hmm. I'm glad I married the kind of guy who will tell me when I have blown a bugger onto my face. That's a special kind of bond.
I can give myself a break really, having had the "man cold" for going on seven days. I'm lucky to be functioning as highly as I am. And I'm getting so much better. But it's clear I'm not at my peak.
So, today as I slipped my hand in my pocket to get the grocery list I'd written and attached to my phone via sticky note...it was gone. I'd lost it somewhere between the safety of my pocket and the ENTIRE UNIVERSITY CAMPUS. Not really a big deal except one item read: bra?
Whoever found my list of items must have had a nice laugh. Luckily, I was able to recall the items on my list...including the questionable bra - which I may look for. Or not. Not. Perfect. Either way, we can all have a laugh about this one, on the universe.