Busted and Baileys

Let us right off the bat agree that we shall not mention how long it has been since I've written anything here.  Do we have a deal?
Excellent!

Have you ever been out and about during the course of your day, having an idea of  yourself based on how you looked before leaving your house (possibly due to some extended primping and preparation) only to come home hours later to look in the mirror and discover you were so far off the mark the story of your day could be about two entirely different people?

I had one of those days just recently, and sadly I must report that it wasn't the first, and considering who we're talking about here, it won't be the last.

An important lesson the day taught me is this: nature always wins. It wins against blow dryers and flat irons; it wins against mascara and pressed powder; it wins against carefully chosen shoes that were a compromise between the sturdy winter boots I should have worn and the cute Mary Jane pumps I wanted to wear; it wins against the loose-knit hat that did nothing to keep my nose from turning red and, err, leaking.

Importantly, and rather too tardily, I also learned to always listen to that inner voice that suggests that all might not be as it should be in the zipper region of one's slacks.

Furthermore, the first time one hears oneself making car sounds whilst driving an actual car (with a virtual stranger in the passenger seat) one should take note of how odd it is to do so, and desist immediately, and not go on to do it a second time. One wonders why one chose that precise moment to do such a things for the very first time in one's life.

(Applying the lessons to 'one' rather than to 'me' makes them easier to bear. This is a practice I may adopt permanently)

Needless to say, arriving back home limp-haired, racoon-eyed, sodden-footed, unzipped, and dripping-nosed, I was grateful to have survived the day in one piece, but withdrew from whatever fun and frolic it may yet have had on offer to console myself with my friend Bailey. On ice.