I discovered and binged watched a new show on Netflix called The Letdown. It is hilarious. If you have ever had children, it is a must-see in my opinion. Tom and I laughed and cried through the series which was way too short. Because my "boss" at my volunteer job is six months in from having a baby, I told her to watch it.
Friday while we worked she told me she thought she was losing her marbles and then related a story that backed up that statement. She knows I have a terrible menopausal brain when it comes to remembering things and wanted, I think, to show some solidarity. I shook my head, referred to an episode of The Letdown, and told her she had baby brain, not to worry it would eventually grow and widen and she would be back in the saddle until menopause struck. Twenty minutes after we left work, she called to tell me she had left the baby walker I had carried out to her car sitting on the sidewalk. Forgot all about it. We laughed hilariously, and I truly did feel better knowing someone her age was losing her marbles even though hers is only mommy brain. I reiterated her watching The Letdown. She did. She loved it.
Now let me segue into what I really wanted to talk about. Somehow it all relates.
A few days later, she reciprocated with the information that Sears was having a going-out-of-business sale. Because she knew I wanted to shop for some clothes and hate doing so. I mean, I really hate shopping for clothes. I have always considered it a chore. I'm not a fashionista, have a vague notion of what is appropriate for certain events, and prefer to dress, well, like the main character, Audrey, in The Letdown. Perhaps it is because when I was the age of caring about that sort of stuff I was working at a pool and spent ninety percent of my time in a bathing suit and towel.
There was hardly anyone at the mall. It was like something out of the Twilight Zone and for one small moment, I wondered if I were in an altered reality. We have two malls and I live between both. North is the more hoity-toity mall and south is the lesser of the two. I live equal distance between both but tend to head south because they have more of a selection because of fewer shoppers. That being said, I happened to be north so hardly anyone at the mall was a surprise thus my concern.
I started at Sears. Unfortunately, I ran into someone I knew upon minutes of entering and was engaged in a conversation that lasted almost an hour with me standing. Standing is a problem for me with my slipped disc and having just been pumping iron and doing cardio, I was sore. By the 45 minute mark, I knew I had to move so I bid goodbye and went into the dressing room to try on the clothes I had grabbed. Ugh. All of them. I left Sears and headed toward Macy's where they carry the skorts that I live in.
At this mall, Sears and Macy's are always hot. Trying on clothes is, well, trying and I always leave there sweating profusely. Even Madison sweats after trying on clothes there, although she claims it is due to Macy's pricing which she finds over the top. While wandering among the racks of clothing I received a text in a group with Tom's family. Buzzing kept informing me of responses and without going into too much detail I was laughing. It started out with a chuckle, but due to my forgetfulness, I texted something that turned out to be, once I realized my mistake, a really bad senior moment and it just struck me as hilarious. One of those full blown can't stop laughing moments. With tears. I would wander, mutter to myself what I had texted, and start laughing. This went on and on until finally, I noticed that the few people in the store, including the sales ladies, were looking at me oddly. Oops. I'm sure I looked a sight with my hair all askew, sweat rolling down my face, muttering to myself, and then cackling like a crazy person.
It was time for me to exit and I did. Empty handed. By this time, my body was begging for a chair. I had overextended and just wanted to get to my car. Of course, I laughed all the way back to Sears over my forgetfulness, the text, and life in general. Back at Sears, I made the unfortunate decision to try on some shorts. By now, fans were blowing in the aisles and I wondered if maybe the entire mall was suffering some air conditioning issues. Didn't stop me, however, from trying on another pair of shorts. Which didn't fit and depressed me and so I called it quits. I pulled back on my the skort I had worn and started to leave. Something felt off. I looked in the mirror and when all seemed well I started out the door. Stopped. Went back to the mirror, adjusted the shorts under the skirt, shrugged and left. I put the shorts back on the rack and went toward the exit. At that point, I realized I was missing my sunglasses. Dang-nab-it. I'm always doing this in dressing rooms.
I thought I should check the dressing room where I first tried on clothes and headed back through the mall to find that room. As I walked, I thought something odd. I realized something was in my pants. This is nothing new for me. I keep a hair clip usually attached to my shirt and sometimes the damn thing ends up in my underwear. I felt around on the left side of my body for the object and realized it was my keys. What? My keys are always in the pocket on my right side. Then I realized I couldn't even feel a pocket and suddenly it hit me. I had put my skort on backward. And was currently walking around Sears with my pants on the wrong way.
It was too much for me. I mean, really. I started laughing again until I was crying. I made it into the dressing room, thought about how I was walking into the room with nothing in my hands to try on, and locked myself in a room so I could right my wrong, laughing hilariously the entire time. I couldn't stop. Finally, mopping my face I searched for the sunglasses to no avail. I left the dressing room and asked the saleslady at the counter if someone had turned in some dark sunglasses.
Her: "Can you describe them?"
I had to grit my teeth from laughing again. Because this is the part where someone else, anyone else in the world, would have described their sunglasses by telling the lady what was written on the frame; Coach, Ray Bans, Fossil. But this was me, remember? Not the fashionista.
Me: "They are black and say Absolute on the side frames."
As in Absolute Vodka.
I love the damn things. Darcy got them free at the Pride parade a year ago and I wear them daily. It makes my cousin Jaimee nuts, but I don't care. I have had salespeople ask me if those glasses were from the vodka maker, but I don't care. They were great sunglasses.
Her: "I don't see them. Let me call the Lost and Found department."
She got on her walky-talky and called. In this store that is going out of business. Where voices carry. Where everyone within a mile radius has a walky-talky. So her voice carried throughout the store where we could all hear it.
Her: "Could someone in Lost and Found respond, please? I'm looking for black sunglasses that say Absolute on the frames."
It was too much for me. I went into the purse aisle and broke down laughing. And realized I most likely lost them in Macy's. Which was too far to walk in my condition. So, I thanked the woman and left, got into my car, and laughed all the way home and then some.
I seriously should have my own television show. Or someone should write my life in a television show. Oh, wait. It's in the episode of The Letdown where the SAHM is not invited to speak at Career Day at her kids' preschool and so she comes back wearing a cape and proceeds to talk all about her career as a SAHM which she pronounces as a "Sa-Ham"
I'm going to contact those writers and let them know I have a ton more material for them. For when they are ready to tackle the empty nest side of these ladies. The menopausal side of life. Because people...my life...it is a sitcom. Or something. Wait until I tell my "boss" this story so she knows what to look forward to.
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