Oh, history involved itself

Mysterious shade that took its form
Or what it was, incarnation

We have a new bathroom. It looks even better than this but that's for another time:







Anyway last night we started taking apart our shambly bedroom. Chrysalis that will break and open to our new bedroom, our sacred space, where magic happens. And dreamy, sleepy, lovey times.

New paint, new furniture, new rug, new curtains, new goals, new life, possibly, quite possibly, new life. Not so much ifs anymore. But we'll see. Who knows who knows who knows anything. I still haven't learned enough to be convinced this could be my life. Or that I'm even a key player in it.

On a completely different note, I've debated telling this story, because it's humiliating, and I haven't even told Hubs, and it's about me and my bike and a most most most beautiful boy, and chamois butter.

I'll just put it as the email I sent to my most closest lady loves (and Rocky):

Subj. I'm officially an old lady AKA Su-Lauren's butt chammy story
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So my bicycle gets a flat and the spare we have is the wrong size. I have to take it in to the bike shop which is ok bc I need to buy some biker lotion (Chamois Butt'r, no joke) for where my padded butt shorts rub my leg wrong. MY LEG, ok?

I've been super busy at work, trying to work out, Chris and I've been out of town every day it seems, anyway I go in there on my packed lunch break with a lot on my mind.

How I miss that the most GORGEOUS guy is helping me I don't know. I mean he was so beautiful it makes my teeth hurt to think of what happened next.

He fixes my flat, asks if that's it. I say well I need to buy this lotion stuff. He rings me on the register. The following happens:

Me: So, this stuff will work if you have a rash, right?

Him: (crickets)

Me: Bc I have a rash...from wearing the padded bike shorts...a rash like sore spot...

Him: uh, yeah (more crickets)

Me: So do I put it on directly on the skin or on the shorts?

Him (waving in the general frontal genital area): yeah yeah just directly on the skin

silence. end scene.

The rash is on my LEG! MY LEG! No where near my frontal genital area! MY LEG! Why didn't I say my leg?!?!

And that my dears is the end of my career as a lady men used to find relatively attractive bc relatively attractive ladies, married or no, do not talk to handsome men about their possibly genital RASHES!

thank you, and as always, straight from the peanut gallery,

Sully

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This really is my life. Are you surprised?