The bags under my eyes are all part of a ploy for sympathy. Or maybe even a small stipend from my employer. I know I am district employee volunteering on behalf of daughter but hemming color guard show uniforms till 11pm, dreaming about those darn grey suits in my sleep and finishing the last two suits at 530am then rushing them to the cleaners by 7am-- shouldn't that be worth something?!
When I think I am in the clear for some R&R and a cocktail party over at Lin's-- I realize wherever I go I have to drag along my steam iron, ironing board and fourteen white cotton business shirts. Plus stop at Target to get five more tubes of L'Oreal Colour Riche Tropical Coral #444 lipcolor and a bottle of Downy Wrinkle Free-- all for the color guard.
Yesterday I asked the color guard co-director, who was in charge of getting the white cotton business shirts for the show uniforms if she wanted me to take them to the cleaners with the suits for a good heavy starch and pressing. She passed and said she would take care of things. Oh brother! If you want things done you have to do them yourselves. Maybe that is harsh, stretching it, but I should have taken a stance in favor of the shirts to the cleaners. So I rush out of work tonight dash to the cleaners pick up the last five suits go back to the high school match the suits with the proper garment bag for traveling... I see co-director hung the white business shirts with each girl's garment bag. YIKES! The shirts' appearance resembles the liking of having been rolled over, slept in, danced on...you name it fourteen shirts with more wrinkles than a Sharpei. Not acceptable for a field show. So, tonight, I stand ironing board side with a cocktail in hand. It is the only way I am going to remain with some level of saneness with all this last-minute-time-crunched-uniform-nonsense in preparation for tomorrow's first competition of the marching season.
Lin, I have to leave the cocktail party early, I hear the clock ticking...we have to report to school at 7am. Me with those darn perfectly pressed white shirts in hand.
As I leave the "lemonade stand" I raise my glass to us all--women of greatness. And insanity.