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Tuesdays are hard. After full days of work on Mondays, leaving for work the next morning is the hardest thing. There's still most of the week to get through, and most days I don't get to take breaks (and some days I don't get to take a lunch), and I just know my demanding job will take it out of me. Getting out the door usually involves a brief crying jag, then a stop to fix my makeup, just like this morning did.
Day 5:
There's a white shirt with a drape front I've had for several years. I've been holding on to it because "someday" I was going to make a pattern out of it but not take it apart. It's probably been a literal decade since I put it on my body. It's white, and of course it has stains in the front, along with a few holes here and there from overzealous application of bleach. It's so never going to happen, because I seem to have a thing about taking things apart that are still reasonably functional, especially clothes. When I was a kid, I went to parochial school, and we had uniforms to wear every day. I didn't have much in the way of other clothes to wear, because I was too fat to fit into age-appropriate clothes. And I outgrew them quickly. It's why I only ever had one pair of cutoff jean shorts. Jeans that fit me were such a rare find (especially at thrift stores) that they were so much more valuable as long pants than taking off large pieces of fabric to make a (less useful) pair of ratty unhemmed shorts. So no taking functional things apart for me.
A couple of old sonicare brush heads made it into the recycling bin. They'd been hanging out waiting for me to figure out how to pull those very powerful magnets off of them. Not gonna happen either. There was also a jar of Clinique eye cream that had been the reparation from a class-action suit (and I have bought Clinique stuff, so yes, I was getting some of that). It was almost empty, and the dregs were all dried up. But at least I can say I used up most of it. Rinsed out and then into the recycling bin.
Day 5:
There's a white shirt with a drape front I've had for several years. I've been holding on to it because "someday" I was going to make a pattern out of it but not take it apart. It's probably been a literal decade since I put it on my body. It's white, and of course it has stains in the front, along with a few holes here and there from overzealous application of bleach. It's so never going to happen, because I seem to have a thing about taking things apart that are still reasonably functional, especially clothes. When I was a kid, I went to parochial school, and we had uniforms to wear every day. I didn't have much in the way of other clothes to wear, because I was too fat to fit into age-appropriate clothes. And I outgrew them quickly. It's why I only ever had one pair of cutoff jean shorts. Jeans that fit me were such a rare find (especially at thrift stores) that they were so much more valuable as long pants than taking off large pieces of fabric to make a (less useful) pair of ratty unhemmed shorts. So no taking functional things apart for me.
A couple of old sonicare brush heads made it into the recycling bin. They'd been hanging out waiting for me to figure out how to pull those very powerful magnets off of them. Not gonna happen either. There was also a jar of Clinique eye cream that had been the reparation from a class-action suit (and I have bought Clinique stuff, so yes, I was getting some of that). It was almost empty, and the dregs were all dried up. But at least I can say I used up most of it. Rinsed out and then into the recycling bin.
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