Work Wife

Luck

My feet ache when they hit my carpet the next morning and I regret wearing heels to the event last night. I usually wear sensible pumps or wedges with my gowns but I thought I'd be sitting more than I was able to with all the fires I had to run around and put out. I also thought I was going to eat dinner, but I only managed to snag a roll and some rice by the time I got to the buffet line, hours after dinner concluded, so I ran through a fast food drive-through at one a.m and now deeply regret the fried food that's made my stomach sour. 

I stand under the hot water until I am fully salmon colored and am too tired to bother washing my hair. My neighbor Mina will be knocking on my door in twenty minutes to escort me to the farmer's market and I don't think she'll care that my hair is still half-curled from last night if I stuff it under a hat. Mina and I try to walk down to the farmer's market that sets up a block down from our townhomes every Sunday morning when I don't have an event to work. 

After sliding my legs into my comfiest shorts that are public-appropriate and slipping on a tank I got from my trip to Barcelona, I text Mina that I am ready to walk. It's not too hot yet and I am hoping to be back on my couch before the day hits ninety degrees. Since I will be in Mexico as of Wednesday, I have this afternoon to do laundry and I am hoping to sprawl out, relax and watch bad TV in between loads. 

I snag a water bottle from the kitchen pantry and the sunshine spilling in through the window over the sink is making my blue kitchen cabinets that I just had installed a month ago bright. I smile to myself over how much I still love how it all came out. The best part of living alone is that I don't have to take anyone else's tastes into consideration when I decorate. When I saw a kitchen in Better Homes and Gardens that was all dark blue with butcher-top counters, I knew I had to have it as my kitchen. When I saw this massive gaudy chandelier at an antique mall that would look so perfect in the living room, I snagged it and when I spotted the coolest gold and pink art deco wallpaper that would elevate my guest bathroom, I ordered six rolls of it. My style is colorful and elegant and I love how I don't have anyone grimacing at me while I slide my credit card. 

I also love that while I am packing throughout the week, I can leave outfit ideas sprawled out on the counter and loveseat. My teal chair that's shoved in the corner of my living is currently holding all of my accessories and a beach hat is perched on top. I quite frankly have beachy shit strewn all over my downstairs and love that no one can tell me to pick it up. 

My doorbell rings exactly at ten o'clock and I am just stuffing my feet into Nikes when I yank the door open. Mina slides in around me and notices my clothing piles immediately.

"Oh shit, Mexico is this week already?" She asks as she lifts a folded swimsuit cover-up off my banister. She holds it up against her and the bold colors pop off her olive skin and the thin material hits mid-thigh. It's an oversized box on me and I frown. 

"Yes, I am clearly in the process of packing and you just made me rethink that cover-up. You want it?" I ask her and her dark brown eyes glide down as she holds up the flimsy dress. 

"What's wrong with it? Why don't you like it?" She asks with her unique accent popping through. Mina is Indian, born in London, but relocated to the States when she was twenty-one to get her medical degree so she could become an embryologist. Her accent is all over the place and I love when people try to guess where she is from. 

"I did like it, I just see how it's supposed to look now. I don't want to look frumpy when surrounded by a bunch of hot twenty-five-year-olds. I am only four years older but they make me feel a decade older," I mutter and yank the front door back open. Mina folds the cover-up and sticks it in her cloth bag with a shrug. I'm sure I'll see her sporting it over her bikini at our pool this summer.