You would think that nearly 12 hours of a frenetic pace on Friday, and another 9 hour day yesterday, all done in a daze of chanting "get it done, get it done, get it done", would pretty much guarantee that this gorgeous Sunday means just sitting back and relaxing before I get back to it tomorrow.
Nope.
I perused Facebook this morning with a cup of espresso, enjoying reading and not scanning, checking in with friends, and seeing what the world has been up to outside of the confines of our store.
There it was.
TODAY ONLY. $1 sale at Goodwill.
The Goodwill that is only 20 minutes from my house.
Really, you nitwit? You've just survived a fast and furious, crazy, hectic, zombie-state-inducing sale of your own in just three short days. You would think I want nothing to do with a sale. Especially one that people line up for. One that includes frantic digging, reaching, and pulling.
But...but....it's ONE DOLLAR.
That means no dressing rooms. No picture messages asking if someone likes something. No thinking. It means picking up those ugly picture frames and wooden shelves because painting them and a little bit of cut and chop, and they become window boxes and more windows for my troll tree. It means work clothes for the boys. Funky clothes for the girl child. Baby clothes for FatCat because his mouse hunting strike means some cat shaming is due.
I hurriedly got my laundry going. Calculated out how much shopping time I could give myself and still visit family I desperately want to see. Whipped out a grocery list, that with the week I'm about to put in means a total mom fail filled with foods that require the use of our microwave and a can opener. Loaded the dishwasher, realizing it was almost nothing but coffee cups, travel cups, and glasses used for alcohol. Story of my life this week. Made another round of espresso because if I'm going to do this, I'm going to DO it. Jacked up on caffeine, music blaring while I throw on barely acceptable clothing, hell, I might even throw on some spackle so the dark circles under my eyes aren't quite as noticeable.
I'll hit the road in about 15 minutes, which will get my timing perfectly to grab a nice little spot in line. Not in front, not in back, so as not to appear too eager. My mind starts calculating out the best approach of what racks to zoom to first, and yes, GET THAT CART. I look at the nails on my hands already wrecked from work and think, what the hell, wreck them a little more with that strategy of grab, dump in cart, look at it later. I practice my resting bitch face, so the other frantic shoppers around me will know I mean business, and don't fuck with me sister, this is my only day off, and this is serious relaxation time going on.
Yes, I can do this. And I can do it in a short amount of time that also means I get some girl time in, grocery shopping done, and still come home and finish laundry with a drink in hand. Perhaps in a new drinking glass that makes me feel like less of a lush while still consuming copious amounts of liquor.
I relaxed this weekend. Oh yes I did. After all, I WAS sitting on my ass perusing Facebook when I saw the post for the dollar sale.
Adios motherfuckers.
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