Oh Anne, you poor dear. Please don't beat yourself up over that one. You can't control the weather, and that's terrible that all of your washing got soaked! Your kids will survive and live to tell their therapists about it someday, lol!
Like Kari, I pride myself on usually getting myself fully together before stepping out of my house, and will often not even walk around the corner to the mailbox unless I'm fully accessorized. One morning recently, after a particularly rough, sleepless night, I was at my computer (probably on YLF!) when I heard the garbage truck making it's way down my street. I had forgotten to but our bin out by the curb, and it was completely full of some rather rank smelling trash. I knew I couldn't risk skipping a week of pick-up. I jumped up in a panic and caught sight in a mirror of my wild hair-do (achieved by going to sleep on wet hair and then tossing and turning all night). I was bra-less of course and in a sheer summer nightie. So I opened the coat closet and threw on the first thing I saw. Then I stepped into the garage to get the bin and realized I'd need shoes so I wouldn't burn my feet on the pavement. The only thing by the door were my husband's elderly, beat up, painted in sneakers with the tongues cut off and laces missing. Well at least they were easy to slip on. I was praying no one would see me, but as soon as I flew out of the garage, I noticed my neighbor directly across the street from me tinkering on his truck with a buddy. I galloped down to the curb, holding the coat together with one hand and trundling the wheeled bin behind me with the other. It seemed like everything was in slow motion as my neighbor and his friend both looked up with their wrenches in hand and mouths agape. There was nothing else to do by smile and say hello and then I beat cheeks back to the safety of my garage. I'm just glad I didn't trip and fall in my husbands goofy shoes!
