dismiss the fantasy

after a morning of cozying up to my honey, sleeping in 'til 8:30am and taking CoCo out to potty (I am dog-sitting this weekend for a friend), I decided to take the reigns and tackle the closet-on-wheels in the backseat of my car today. The weather has fooled me into thinking it will be a brisk, fall-like day, but now that I have started the process,  quickly realized that it's hot to death outside. the sun is beating down with no clouds in sight and I have had to come in to change my clothes... can't get wife-beater tan lines today. Not a good look. So, today is my weekend and it blows that it will be spent burning to death as I carry loads from my car to the house for phase 1 of the "let's get it together" show.

it's not intentional that everything I own happens to be in my car riding around with me... it's like abuse... it's a slow progression that creeps up on you until one day you can't take it anymore. Discussing this with other women makes me feel a bit better about myself-- I have discovered that I'm not the only one with this problem. 

I am about 30 minutes away from having to end my work and take a drive over to Ed Biamonte's studio for a Lancome photo shoot with a group of girls from various ethnic backgrounds... yes, I am playing the part of the token black once again. That's my job, and I will wear it out! Funny how mulattos get taken for black in Springfield even though I am just as much white as I am black-- all they see around these parts is nappy roots and a slight shade darker so I must be "Negro". Yes, a lady actually called me that the other day, thought I'd share.

Enough is enough, the car is now emptied so I will leave the disaster in my living room for another day. Ah, I love Sundays.