I scowled as I ascended my stairs, pulling a dress from my closet and rifling through my row of sweaters until I found the one I needed. The eyelet cream that buttoned completely, hanging neatly by the rest of the cardigans.
I'd purchased the cotton shift when Friend visited and it's rather adorable. The only problem is that it has a deep v-neck that is a bit slutty. For a second date. For work, it's inappropriate. For church, I'm pretty sure it's sinful. As I was going to church, I frowned at the garment and buttoned the sweater atop it. Yet you could still see a good bit of skin between buttons.
So I put it on backward, beaming proudly at the high "neckline" and deciding my pretty sweater would now cover my exposed upper back. Suitable demure, I set off for the pretty building perched on the hill where I worship.
(It was Epiphany Sunday. I think my pastor believes that a UFO led the magi to baby Jesus. And he was very sympathetic that they only traveled ~10-15 miles per day. And he's not a big fan of Herod. I also learned gold was given to kings, frankincense to priests and myrrh for funerals or physicians.)
I did not want to attend. I've not, in fact, gone to church in months and months and arrived in my too-short skirt and on-backward dress with a tight smile and clenched teeth. If, I decided, I felt this strongly about avoiding church, I clearly needed to be there. And through prayer and song and the quiet moments where the dozen of us formed a semi-circle at the altar to take communion, my heart softened and soul quieted. And as I shook hands with my fellow congregants, murmuring 'peace be with you,' I finally found some peace within me.
I stopped by Kohls (I love Kohls) to look for a particular stripey dress. I did not find it, but I did acquire new lingerie and a clearance dress (with a ruffled neckline - it's very cute) and impulse bought some Godiva chocolates. I saw a sign for sandwiches on sale and made a quick stop to grab one, gracefully buying the cookies the sale demanded. Because I like cookies and sales. So it all works out.
I returned home, lecturing myself that I would go on my date. I wanted to have my sandwich and watch reruns of Law & Order and perhaps take a nice nap with Chienne curled behind my knees. But instead I would go and meet a man for ice cream. With sprinkles on top. (That was my tentative title for the blog post.) Convinced that I was going and I was going to be lovely, I'll admit to a quick thrill when he canceled.
"Of course," I replied on the phone. "Postpone. Feel better. Get some rest." And I replaced the phone receiver to snuggle in the loveseat with only my faithful canine for company and relaxed into contentment. For I like lazy Sunday afternoons - time for sandwiches and naps and slipping out of a dress and into pajamas.
Sometimes changes in plans are gifts. And if I have the fleeting thought that being alone this afternoon is likely indicative of being alone forever? That's what Godiva chocolate-covered-caramels are for.