Blinded

“Piece of sh*t!” I growled, giving the cord one last yank before the blinds came crashing down. I was late for church and did not have time for this…well, like I said before.

The morning had started with the best of intentions, as Sundays usually do. I showered and shaved and tweezed and tugged, ridding myself of any conspicuous unpleasantries. I put on my best face, the smudge-proof one that came in a tube. I stroked and smoothed and scorched and sprayed my wild waves into submission. I deodorized to cover any latent offence and misted myself in a cloud of perfume to perpetuate the premise that I naturally smelled akin to the well-tended bed of roses my life purported to be.

I brewed coffee, cooked breakfast, and cleared off the bathroom counter all while shoveling the contents of my disheveled life haphazardly into a neat little clutch tucking it all away unseen…along with my growing sense of discontent at having to walk out the door in the next ten minutes when all I really wanted to do was stay home and read the paper in my pajamas. Where had the time gone?

I rushed into the bedroom pulling off my pj’s with not a moment to spare, when I suddenly realized the blinds were open. And not just open, but pulled up all of the way to the very top, giving anyone who dared to gander, a good look at the real me!

I bent down and raced to the window giving the cord a tug. Nothing, but that awful sound of a terrible tangle. I muttered under my breath and jerked again. Nothing. I yanked and huffed and cursed and cajoled until finally...

“Piece of sh*t!” and it all came crashing down. I was sweaty and smeared and disheveled and late with nowhere left to hide. I had every excuse to stay home, but every reason to go.

I took a deep breath. I got dressed, drank a cup of coffee, collected myself and my car keys. And I walked in, very late and very imperfect and very real, hiding none of it from anyone.


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