Happy Monday! Oh my goodness, I've had a son of a bitch of a morning. I shall tell you about it. First! The outfit. Nothing spectacular today.
That look on my face translates to: Yes, yes, picture of outfit, I must go get my starbucks now I'm running behind schedule.
Interesting factoid - the shoes I have on in that picture are not the ones on my feet now. In fact, the shoes I have on in that picture now need a visit to the shoe doctor.
So, Fred stayed home today. He flew to and then drove back from Kentucky in 1.5 days this weekend, he was kind of beat. So I'm ready, running out the door, and he's right there with me. I was outside, on our front steps, and I turned to say something, and I slipped and fell, all the way down, our BRICK STAIRS. Ow motherfucking shit ow. Fred was hugely concerned, he tried but couldn't catch me. My stuff went flying.
Fred: "Sara, are you okay?"
Sara: "OW shit OW whimper"
Fred picked up all my stuff, from the stairs, and the yard, and in some flowers, and maybe in my hair, including the heel cap to my shoes (nice).
I'm fairly single track minded here. This hurt like a mofo, but here's what's coming out of my mouth
"ugh, did I rip my pants, crap, I have to put on different shoes, I liked those shoes, I've only worn those shoes once! Ow shit, my leg hurts. Dammit, I have to get to starbucks and get to work by 9."
Fred: "Um, hun, why don't you call work and sit down for a minute and regroup?"
Sara: "no, I don't have to CALL work when I'm late, I can show up anytime I damn well please I just need starbucks and I have a 9am conference call that I can do from the car but I don't like to, lemme just go put on some different shoes right quick."
So, I'm up in my room, finding shoes, and I pull my pant leg up to inspect the damage. OMFG. Scrapes and bruises alllll up the right leg. You know shits bad when you have a dark purple bruise 1 minute after falling. I'm all Fred, look, its totally Gnarls Barkley up in here. Anywoo, off to work!
I think I was running on some kind of effed up adreneline rush. I got in the car and left a bewildered looking Fred on the stairs, holding the cat. By the time I got to Starbucks (.2 miles away) I had sent texts saying, "ow, this kind of stings now", and "I hope I'm not bleeding on my pants".
Got my starbucks, got in the car, headed to work. Pulled in at 8:55 or so. Came upstairs, sat down to my computer, dialed in to the conference call, and then realized FUUUUCCCCCK my coffee is in my car and I don't have time to go to the garage and get it WHIIIIINNNNE.
So I did my conference call. Went downstairs to get my coffee. And now I'm here. Oh, and I cancelled my 10am, because really, I can't be arsed right now.
Outfit details. Who cares. No, I kid.
T Shirt: Banana Republic Outlet
Pants: Victorias Secret
Belt: Ann Taylor
Shoes: Ann Taylor (they WERE Enzo Angiolini, but NOOO)
Bracelet/Rings/Necklace: Tiffanys, gifts from Fred.
And THAT'S how I feel about MONDAY. Good thing next one is a holiday.
**this post has apparently been brought to you by Starbucks, warning you that addiction to overpriced coffee beverages may be hazardous to your health and sanity**