|A little snitch of cookie dough is always a good idea.|
Then, the kind and cheery cashier held my old receipt and the receipt from the return together, grabbed a stapler, and did the deed. Did she line the corners up nicely? Uh-uh. Did she make sure the edges were lined up so that the receipts would fold nicely and fit in my wallet without sticking up too much? Nope. Just stapled those babies right together with the corners going all over the place like it didn't even matter.
Silently. Freaking. Out.
Oh, me? No, of course not. I'm totally chill.
Pah. Yeah right.
I humor myself into thinking that I'm some happy-go-lucky gal just bouncing my way through life, going with the flow, letting the little things roll off me.
Then somebody hands me two receipts stapled together all crooked and I'm beside myself. "What on earth am I supposed to do with this?"
2. It's like the receipt incident was some precursor to the other thing that happened today that I ended up not having any control over and it drove me bonkers. So much so that I called once, then made Bryan call, then called back again. It was a little thing. And it didn't matter. But it drove me crazy.
3. I don't know how to say this without sounding lame and totally blowing my cover, but, man, I get stressed about Brown Bag.
I stress about decorations. I stress about not having enough people come. I stress about sounding like I don't know what I'm doing.
And then people see me and say, "You're Katie, right?" Uhh... yeah. "You're the one who does the Brown Bag nights?" Uhh... yeah. (But please, I promise I shower before those. I just look really gross today. If I had known someone was going to identify me as that Katie Lewis I would have put on some mascara or something.)
"That's so cool!"
I myself still can't believe how many times this little scenario has actually happened. Though they seem not to notice my not-showeredness, which is nice.
But the thing that really gets me is the number of times since the first Brown Bag last month I've heard people tell me that I am "so put together" or that I'm "totally on top of things."
Don't get me wrong. I'm totally flattered. And of course I always bask in it in the moment. Who wouldn't?
But later, when I'm on my own again and thinking, I can't help but cringe. Me? Put together? Totally on top of things? Ha. If only wishing made it so.
Still, hearing nice things like this makes me feel some urgency to live up to peoples' beliefs of the kind of person I am. Which made a couple nights ago that much more nerve-wracking.
Earlier in the day I had designed some simple patterns. The plan was to use them for the Brown Bag project in December. But, of course, I wanted to try them all out ahead of time to make sure they'd work. And I needed to have some samples to show off at the upcoming November Brown Bag.
First try: craft fail. But it was the first try. So that's a fluke, right? No big deal.
Second try: craft fail. But in a totally different way. Grr.
Third and fourth and fifth and sixth trys: fail, fail, fail, and mega super fail.
Just for the record, I really didn't cry. Which was big of me.
3. Turned off the sewing machine. Walked upstairs. Took a deep breath. I'll think of something else.
2. I let it drop. We went to the movies. We had fun.
1. You know what? I folded it up and put it in my wallet anyway.