Oh, how I wish I had made the time to buy a new dress for the BlogHer conference.
Or even to iron the ones I think I might want to wear and just threw in my suitcase.
I didn't.
I didn't have time: I am currently in the middle of moving from a 3,500 square foot house to a 2,300 square foot house. There is stuff everywhere. There are boxes stacked on boxes.
And I can't find anything.
So I didn't buy a new dress. Or iron or even try on the old ones I packed. I didn't have time to get a manicure or a pedicure and my eyebrows haven't been done in weeks.
My haircut is sloppy and my roots are showing. My legs are covered with bruises and I can't remember in which box I packed my earrings and necklaces.
I have been surviving on junky food and way too little sleep for days now and it shows in my skin. Yesterday, while unpacking the "bathroom" box the middle finger on my left hand got in a tussle with business end of a razor and emerged a bloody, pulpy mess.
I returned to the blogosphere for the first time in days last night and read, with a sinking stomach, approximately a million posts about the joyful preparations so many of the attendees are undertaking.
You are all going to be buffed and polished and absolutely beautiful, I just know it.
Me?
I'll be the one in the corner with the roots, the bloodshot eyes, the ill-fitting dress and the bandaged finger.
Save me a dance anyway?
