Dear Mom: TMI means Too Much Information. To continue...
So earlier today, not too long before I was due at an appointment about 15 minutes drive from here, I decided to check my email. Because I wasn't already rushing frantically enough. This is when I found a note alerting me to a post that one Dena Harris added to an ongoing thread over at Facebook. And this is what it said: "Time to invoke peer pressure. DO IT. DO IT OR YOU'RE A LOSER! JUST DO IT! (Or not... no worries. Just let us know.)"
Peer pressure is alive and well, darlings. What I was being Peer Pressured into doing was attending this networking event, Linking Greensboro Live, later on today that we had both decided to attend together, ages ago, but had both decided last week not to attend... until last night when Dena changed her mind and posted a re-invite on my Facebook wall asking me to change my mind too.
What Dena doesn't know is that when I read this email, I was walking around the house with this numbing cream stuff all over my face in preparation for The Excruciatingly Painful laser hair treatment I'd scheduled for 10:50 today. At just the moment I sat down to read email, it occurred to me that I'd meant to brush my teeth one more time before leaving. But before doing so, I'd realized I needed to get that stuff on my face immediately, or I'd feel even more of the lasers shooting into my skin than would be absolutely necessary. Which I'd done forthwith.
In addition to struggling with the tension caused by the question of how to commence with toothbrushing while lathered up in Stuff That Makes All Feeling In My Face Disappear, thereby rendering it inadvisable to even have my mouth open in the first place, I was already struggling to get my sense of humor back...
See, here's the thing. Yesterday was That Day. You know the kind that competes with Alexander's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day: your jeans are too tight, you want to cry but can't really say why, you pick a tiny fight with your special dude for no apparent reason which makes him feel bad and adds "guilt" to the unpleasant emotions you're carrying around for the rest of the evening...and you can't figure out where the time went because the list you wrote at the beginning of the day is not getting enough check marks on it.
My morning had been going so-so - almost brilliant compared to yesterday - and I'd felt mostly comfortable with my "decision" not to attend the hoo ha, after all because? I'd mostly put it out of my mind, frankly. Denial is a very close friend of mine. Denial and Oblivion. But here it was again. In the form of a reminder that not only would I miss a potentially interesting event but also? I'd miss getting to see my friends, including Mariela Perez-Simons. Which would actually be pretty annoying, seeing as how she's such a neat person and I can't actually recall the last time we hung out. I may, but not for certain. Trust me: we're overdue.
This is what happens when you decide to quit your "real job" and go work from home. If you're not careful, you could become incapable of spontaneously putting yourself into situations that involve interacting with large quantities of strangers and even familiar locals. And since we're the kinds of people who believe you have to get back on a horse when she throws you to the ground? You guessed it. I'm letting peer pressure win.
So now? I've had another successful round with the lasers. (And in case I haven't told you lately: yes, it's totally worth it. Even I, who am such a wus I will do just about anything to avoid pain? I am convinced that the pain of lasers is far more agreeable than the alternative of going around with unwanted hairs on your face. Trust me on this. Also trust me when I tell you that they lie when they tell you it feels like a rubber band being snapped against your skin. It's way worse.) Also the numbing cream has mostly worn off, I've talked on the phone to Dena and finally admitted that I'm having "social angst," (which isn't usually something she hears from me, since she's the introvert in this friendship,) but screw it. I'm about to take a break from my work and go take a fresh shower and touch up the aging pedicure, iron something summery and get over myself before I head out in about an hour.
Oh great. Dena just emailed to update me on the evolving answer to my earlier question about what she's wearing. I'll be the one attending with the hot babes.
PS: Anybody know where my business cards are? And don't say "in your storage unit," because I do not have time to stop in over there before we meet first for dinner...