Further Proof That Stress Does, Indeed, Manifest Itself In Strange, Strange Ways
Now that my father is home from the ICU, resting comfortably and finally in real clothes again (which means that he has stopped accusing me of trying to look up his gown), I can focus my neurosis on more meaningful things.
Like the loss of my sunglasses, which I have had for over 3 years. And I am ridiculously, oddly, and oh did I say ridiculously? upset about. I can’t begin to understand how this loss is breaking my heart so thoroughly, but inexplicably it is.
And in spite of their insane cost, I plan to go out tomorrow, ice storm or not, and replace them.
I don’t get this sudden need for THOSE EXACT SUNGLASSES to be replaced NOW, NOW, NOW. It was all that I could do to NOT go out tonight, sheets of ice on the roads be damned (it honestly appears as though Swarovski has set up shop in my front lawn. EVERYTHING has been crystallized, including the dog poo. If only Swarovski was in the market for crystallized dog poo, I would TOTALLY CORNER THE MARKET).
I think I may be going insane.
They still make them. I actually asked for a pair for X-Mas (as you well know, I’ve been plotting to steal yours for years, but I decided to let Santa give me my own instead).
Yeah, I’m thrilled, you told me that. Otherwise I wouldn’t have guessed it. I’m going to Von Maur tonight or tomorrow to pick up a replacement pair. If I wait too long I just KNOW that I won’t get them.
And I love them.