So, we just had a miniature ridiculously huge disaster at my house.
It is a gorgeous day, and we've had the windows open a lot. Gorgeous. A few minutes ago, I casually yelled from the living room, "Oh, its the ice cream truck!" to which Tim replied, "Haha...really?"
I heard him shuffling around in his desk, and he entered the room with a handful of one dollar bills, proudly displaying them as if carrying a bouquet of roses.
Me: What's this...?
TGY: The neighborhood's a loop, he'll come back around.
Me: What do you want?
TGY: No, it's for you.
I smiled a wide smile. The next 10 minutes promised deliciousness.
Moments later, he yelled, "Here it comes!"
I sprung from the couch yelling, "I don't have my shoes on! Where are my shoes?"
"Who cares...? Go out barefoot!"
I dug in the closet for a matching pair and threw open the door...
only to see the truck whiz by.
I was, in a word, devastated.
And I hated how I felt. I was devastated because 1.) I love ice cream and 2.) I equate the way I approached the situation to the way I approach a lot of things in life.
While I was digging around for shoes, I felt nervous...silly even. I felt shy.
I was also worried about things like approaching a stranger while wearing no make-up and sweats. Okay, I'll be honest. I was also worried about ((gulp)) calories.
There was worry....and maybe a little bit of fear.
When we become consumed with worry, we miss out on fabulous opportunities like new jobs and new loves...and ice cream.
I do not want to live like this. I cannot live like this.
Tim hugged me gently when he heard the news and we decided that it is still early. We'll get em' next time.
...and when we do, I shall wear this...
File this under "Things I will Do Differently Next Time."