Scenario: It&#8217s Sunday. Lowe&#8217s 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&#8217m dressed in THAT outfit.

You know the a single. The t-shirt I&#8217ve been DIYing in for two days—the one with paint on my left boob, a hole in the armpit, and the world&#8217s shortest short shorts because it&#8217s 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&#8217m 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&#8230 because my task could wait to be finished a day later on, but I might lose valuable momentum. And the reality is, there aren&#8217t 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&#8217d allow you guys have a chuckle at my expense, or at least know that you&#8217re 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&#8217m 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

The Ugly Duckling Home


Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here