Gary and I have been searching for some kind of funky old thing to put a sink in or on. In fact, I've been searching for all kinds of things to make the house look better lately. Nothing wrong with that, right?
For about a week now, I have had the aforementioned (see paragraph one) cold from Hades. Swollen glands, sore throat, cough of the dead, grim reaper hanging over my recliner with a big grin on his face, tissues filling the waste basket at my side.... Well, you get the picture.
When you have Lupus and Rheumatoid or any other chronic autoimmune disease, this kind of thing does not leave you quickly or leave you looking, sounding or feeling very desirable when it's done with you.
That was obvious when I looked in the thrift store mirror after another fruitless search for a vintage sink cabinet. Who the hell is that old lady following me? Why is she wearing my clothes and carrying my purse?
Wait. Is that me? Are those my baggy Mom jeans? When did I start being OK with wearing those? Is that my Grandma jacket? At least I'm pretty sure my Grandma had one. What the hell happened to that sexy little hippie chick I used to be?
I took a long, hard, disappointed look at my face. It was nearly vampiresque. But not the sexy vampire pallor. You know the wrinkled, hollow, greenish-white vampire that the sexy vampire rapidly ages into when she is vanquished? The one that explodes in a puff of smoke? Ya, that was me in thrift store mirror.
Nooooooo....... That could NOT be me!
Upon even closer inspection, I ascertained that I had waited a bit too long to toss my fat clothes, dye my hair and just generally make sure I looked like a human being. In other words, while I was trying my utmost to keep up the house, I forgot to keep up my appearance.
So this granny shuffled on out of the store, looking like death warmed over on a mission. She then proceeded to go home as quickly as possible without too many people bearing witness to her shame and give herself a head to toe makeover.
So thanks Lupus. If you hadn't hit me with that relentless cold, I might have gone on worrying about everything but my appearance for the rest of my life. Thanks to you, well, I may not look like that 20 year old hippie chick I used to be, but at least I don't look like a have a stake in my chest and one foot in the grave!