OY, you guys, the week I had last week. Just, oy. The SHORTEST day I worked all week was 15 hours, if that gives you any idea. And I was working off-site, so I had to drive, and there was much gnashing of teeth as I sat in traffic every morning and evening. Plus, as an extra-special treat, my car broke down on Wednesday as I was driving home from work at 10pm. I dragged myself to the shop at 5am on Thursday to get it fixed in time to drive to work, and then on Thursday afternoon, less than 12 hours later, a kid smashed into it as it sat helplessly in the parking lot of the school where I was working, so now it needs to go get fixed again. It got to the point, honestly, that when the very-essential-to-our-project printer ran out of toner as we were wrapping up at 8pm on Friday night, all I could think to say was “where is my plague of locusts? I’m ready! Bring it!”
This weekend was spent largely doing things for which there was no time during the week, such as doing laundry so I can have a clean pair of underpants, and shopping for unspoiled milk.
Saturday night we did manage to roust ourselves from the deep divots our asses had formed on the couch to get all dolled up for a charity gig my mom is involved in. They have an annual gala, and my sister and I usually get invited to help round out a table. Its fun, and it gives John a rare chance to wear his tux.
True to form, at 3pm on Saturday I found myself wandering in and out of department stores downtown, caught in a futile search for a dress that (a) was not heinous and (b) did not cost $400. I called my sister to complain about my plight and it turned out she was half a block away, stuck in the same retail hell. We met up in the hosiery section of Macy’s (she needed some shapewear, a category which would probably help me immensely but of which I am inexplicably afraid) and both decided that we’d just give up the hunt and wear something we already had. In my case, that meant a very blah, but totally acceptable, black knee-length dress.
I showed up at the event, got a cocktail, and went to say hi to my mom.
“Oh, you girls are so adorable!” she said.
“Huh?” I said.
“You and your sister! Are dressed alike!”
“Not on purpose!”
Sure enough, when my sister walked over a few minutes later, we were wearing the same damned dress. People kept commenting on it, assuming that we’d planned it. One woman remarked how much she loves it when siblings dress alike. I like it, too – when they’re FOUR. Not so much when they’re 28 and 30. Then it’s just weird.
So that is how I got to spend my Saturday evening sitting at a table at a gala with my sister, dressed as some cocktail attire version of the Doublement twins.