Casual Dress Friday

So today was …..interesting.  I went to work today, but only because they make me go if I want to keep getting those paychecks.  A very long time friend of Isabella’s and mine work together – we’ll call her LTF (long time friend) and the two of us were going to meet Isabella for lunch.  I was waiting for the elevator, I work on 4, LTF works on 2.  The elevator opens and there was a herd of workmen in the elevator.  I offered to take the next one, but they all scooted back and assured me I’d fit.  I asked one of them to push the 2^nd floor button.  Being the smart alec that I am, I then felt compelled to explain that I had climbed the stairs like 19 times already that day and wasn’t going to do it one more time.  So that guy and I were laughing when, from behind me, I heard, “Hi, Amy.”  I turned around and ACK! It was my ex.  Really I’m not sure if ACK! sufficiently describes the feeling, does it?  The first thing you think is, “Oh, My GOD!” quickly followed up by “How do I look?”  I said, “Hi!” much more brightly than I felt and gave a perfunctory hug and crapped my pants.   LTF had told me when I came to work in this building that she has seen him here more than once because of the elevators.  You see, my ex is in the elevator union.  You never think it will happen to you.

You have all been there, I’m sure.  If you haven’t had this joy then you are either entirely too young or joined a nunnery after the first break-up.  And really, no matter how happy and in love you are now, this always throws you for a loop.  I called my mom from the car and told her who I’d just ridden the elevator with.  Her response was classic.  “It’s too bad you didn’t look good.”  Seriously?!  I didn’t tell her what I looked like.  Wasn’t it nice of my mom to just assume I looked dreadful?  Of course she protested that that wasn’t what she meant…..anyway.  We return from my freak-out at lunch and, about an hour later I have to go to the 2^nd floor again.  I decide to take the stairs, but I put on lip gloss for insurance.  You know, Reader, I really didn’t want to take the stairs back up.  It’s like 40 steps (read that while whiiiiiiiining).  So I decided to be brave.  Surely the workmen have all gone by now.  I hit the button and right on cue the doors slide open and there is a veritable sea of green work shirts. 

I’m telling you, Readers, I’m going have to start wearing cocktail dresses to work.