tootsies

My husband leaves really early every morning. My alarm goes off just as he is about to head out the door, but he never leaves without saying those three magic little words: I love you “what’s the plan?”

I swim toward consciousness and try desperately to find an answer. What day is it? What’s going on? Who has what? When am I working out? I sometimes come up with a response before Bill gives up and heads out while I plea with him to just text me later. I’ll figure it out, I always do.

Yesterday the kids both had stuff to do after school, my boy needed to be picked up and have some food thrown at him before getting dropped off at the Y. My girl needed to be picked up and delivered to girl scouts (with nut order form, with dues, with $ for pizza) and would then be transported to the Old Globe for a seasonal production of How the Grinch Stole Christmas (love) and dropped off at home.

Once I factored in the most important issue of when and where I planned to work out, I considered a couple of options before deciding that I would leave work a little early to pick up the boy from the y and drop him at home, and I figured I’d still have time to stop by sports authority for the new insoles that I felt I desperately needed inside of my shoes before this next workout.

Great plan! I texted Bill with the news. I could tell he shared my excitement about the greatness of the plan by reading between the lines of his deeply heartfelt response: “ok” swoon!

I picked up both kids plus one extra, fed everyone taquitos, dropped the boys at the Y, brought the girl back to work, Bill picked her up, Check! Check! Check! Check! Check! I hurried to leave work at the appointed time to retrieve the boy, drop him at home, and take care of my tootsies at the sporting goods store right next to the gym. Che………

Then the extra boy’s mom offered to pick them up from the Y and take them to dinner before dropping my boy at home.

My great plan got even greater! And now I could finish up that last bit of work before heading straight to the store/gym. Plenty of time.  

Plenty of time, plenty of time for answering texts and emails and questions, still plenty of time.

Then…Shit. Not enough time.  Gotta go! Late! I need those insoles!

I raced over there, put hair up and removed make up en route. Found nowhere to park, faced off with cranky people going the wrong way in the parking lane, squeezed into a semi legit spot by the gas station, and ran in to the store with my gym bag in one hand and my $6 coupon in the other. I went straight to the insoles, then the register. Check! Check! Check! 

There was only one person in line. She was from Hawaii. She had called ahead to have a  jacket set aside because she was taking a trip to North Carolina. The jacket was really soft. It wasn’t the one that the helpful clerk had pulled, and look how funnily she had spelled her Hawaiian name! Oh but the other clerk had grabbed the jacket! There it was. Oh yes, it was soft! Soft and warm. Have a great trip! Oh. My. God.

One million hours later, it was my turn. I asked to borrow scissors while the insoles were being rung up. I presented the coupon, swiped my card, and signed while yanking my old insoles out and lining them up against the new ones to trim down to size. I stepped aside for other shoppers but inserted the new insoles right there at the counter, apologizing for my ridiculousness and explaining that I was trying to make it to a 5:30 class. The cashier checked the time. 5:30. I was still in my work clothes, and would have to high tail it all the way through the big fancy gym to get to the locker room and change. I eyed the store’s dressing room … how ridiculous was I willing to be?

Oh yes I did.

I stripped in record time and pulled on my pants, sports bra, and tank top. My shoes were already out, and I rustled through the bag for some socks. Argh, SOCKS! Why do I NEVER have socks in my gym bag? Last time I had forgotten my socks, I had rushed into this very self-same store and picked up an 8 pack of socks for a cause. None of those sassy pink ribboned socks were still in my bag, and I thought I’d have to make another dash for the checkout with a new pair. Then my little eye spied a tiny white bundle nestled deep in the dark recesses of my bag. Socks! 

All I had to do was throw them on, I’d be in my shoes and warming up jogging over to the gym in seconds flat.  How long does it take to put on a pair of socks? Socks are like the world’s most straightforward and easily accessible clothing items.  I was so happy I had found a pair of socks! 

These socks