Been feeling like you are missing a chatty post that will waste a good portion of your Friday evening? Well...I'm here for you. And don't tell me that you have never spent a good 42 hours down the rabbit hole that is scrolling on Instagram.
Today was a beautiful day. Sunshiney. 74 degrees. And I got to go get a gel manicure from my "nail girl." I call her a girl, but she's in her 40s. I waffled between getting a pale matte mauve color and a bright bold fushia.
The fushia won out.
A few hours later, I had an appointment with my endocrinologist. I got fabulous news. My blood sugar is awesome and I have lost 20 pounds since I saw him last.
I love that guy. He is one of those who still wears a tie and shakes my hand when he comes in.
It was an overall great day.
Except for that portion of the day when I fell in my closet.
And when I say..."fell in my closet"...I mean fell into my closet.
My closet extends the entire length of one of the walls of my small office. This small office is off our bedroom. It is really a dressing room/library/craft room, etc. etc.
Let's say that it has a tendency towards hoarding.
At some point, while walking into the room to get dressed and put on my make-up, I lost my balance and fell "into the closet." My head was buried between a 31 tote bag and a couple of totes of scrapbooking supplies stored at the bottom of the closet.
Goodness, gracious.
No worries. One of the reasons I might have lost my balance was because I was carrying my phone around and wasn't able to navigate super great over the piles of baskets, pillows, and other paraphernalia hanging out in my office.
I called The Muffin and he graciously rescued me.
I'm no worse for the wear....Still need to work on that closet.
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