Crappy day, but it’s funny, and not very heart related.

I felt crap the day before yesterday, so I did very little, then went out to plant some seeds and weed the garden. I got tired and my heart rate got funky, so I stretched out in the yard in the grass for a little bit to rest and stared up at the sun til I recovered.

Then I had to go to lacrosse to watch Lilly play. I got in the car and I was like, Henry, the car smells like crap. Henry is like, no. It doesn’t. So we go to the game.

I get out, still smells like dog crap. Oh well. I go in and chat with way more people than usual.

One thousand times more chatting than usual.

Game over, and I am staying and chatting. So not like me!

Ok, so the next morning, I grab the same clothes from my laundry chair. It’s early, I’m so tired, I toss them on and I am out the door to an all-day weightlifting meet with Jacob for his school team, an hour and a half from home in a total butthole town. Prison-like high school next to a dollar tree. Parents don’t stay, so I drop and go and wonder what to do all day. There’s a beach not too far away, and I head there.

Car stinks on the way to the beach. I think, gross, I must vacuum this nasty car. Check my shoes. All good on the shoes. I’ll go vacuum the car after a little beach walk. Get to the beach. Navarre Beach smells like dog crap.

Hmmm. I think, oh no, hmmm. Maybe it’s not the car.

I immediately tear my pants off. On the beach.

Still a smell.

Sweatshirt off! I am on the beach in my skivs in a crowd. I inspect the pants.

Thick dog crap, smeared all down one leg. Sweatshirt, also some dog crap up by the back shoulder. How?!?!?

These are not going back on my body. I have not got a towel. I walk back down the long boardwalk in my undies, which are straight up your basic Wacoal off-white boring classic undies and bra.

There is luckily a small towel in the car, an old one, toddler-style, w a frog hood. Very short. I put this on. So I drive up and down Navarre Beach, thinking there will be an Alvin’s Island or something but it’s so empty and yucky and there is just only a Circle K and some fried fish types of places. So I leave the island and head back to the town side of Navarre where I see a surf shop, and I think, I can go in there in this towel.

So I go inside in my toddler froggy towel and my undies, and I find the least awful “I heart Navarre” tee I can find and I also have to buy pants, bc I am not wearing pants.

I check out. It’s $70.

The man asks if I would like a printed receipt, and I say, no thanks, thinking an emailed receipt will come my way. It doesn’t. I cannot now return these, and this $70 Navarre Beach set is mine forever.

All the while Jacob is like, “when are you bringing me Chipotle?” And I’m all, “there’s a small delay, so sorry, I don’t have any clothes on.”

Ah! Chipotle has pick up! I pick up in my new clothes, but I desperately want to wash up, so I have to be seen in public in them anyhow.

Jacob wraps up. Comes out, gets in the car (no longer smells), says nothing about my bizarre message and my new clothes.