Scenario: It’s Sunday. Lowe’s is closing in 20 minutes. And regardless of my earlier 4 journeys to just about each and every property improvement store this weekend, I am missing one last item from the residence that will let me finish my venture.
The only catch? I’m dressed in THAT outfit.
You know the a single. The t-shirt I’ve been DIYing in for two days—the one with paint on my left boob, a hole in the armpit, and the world’s shortest short shorts because it’s May and Atlanta and hot as hell in my garage and this is relaxed, dammit. No makeup. Bruises all over my legs. I smell of a rank mixture of bug spray, sweat, and sawdust. If I had been a cartoon, there would be Pigpen stink lines over my messy, mousy bun. In brief: this is what I like to call #DIYsheveled.
Sure, I’m constantly a tiny embarrassed when it takes place. And it has happened numerous, several times in one outfit or another—about as equally as me purchasing for lumber in a dress and heels that I wore for work. But as self-aware and very un-blogger-like as it makes me feel, I suck it up and jump in the car anyway… because my task could wait to be finished a day later on, but I might lose valuable momentum. And the reality is, there aren’t sufficient awkward stares in the globe that will end me from making progress on this house when all I require are six lousy freaking screws that are just a half inch longer!
I guess right now I thought I’d allow you guys have a chuckle at my expense, or at least know that you’re not the only one particular who has ever looked like a sizzling mess at the home improvement keep with your legs a small also on display (humorous too that I’m absolutely fine wearing these when I am with my running group, but it just feels so incorrect outside of it!). Can anybody relate?
The post #DIYsheveled
