I Have a Theory About That

I have many theories. Some involve sunscreen, some involve how the amount you sweat during a run can make you not have to pee anymore even if you actually had to pee right when you started running . . . we will get into those fascinating theories at another time. Possibly. Today I need to write about a theory that can be observed often in my life right now. It is:

On the days you take time to shower first thing in the morning, blow-dry your hair, and get appropriately ready for the day, you will not run into any people you know. If you do run into people you know, they will not even notice or comment on your appearance. Conversely, on the days when you decide it will not be worth showering, dressing well, or pulling yourself together in any way, you will somehow be humiliated by ending up in a very public place, running into people at the grocery store who actually say, "I didn't even recognize you!" or inadvertently hosting half the neighborhood in your yard or home.

This morning, I set off for Holland with the girls to make batches and batches of strawberry freezer jam with my mom. We do this almost every June and then stock the freezer for the whole year. Although this is very messy and time-consuming, I am now a jam snob and will not eat store-bought strawberry jam. Ick.

I throw the girls in the car, along with their crap for a day away. We're getting on the highway and I'm on the phone with my mom to tell her we're on our way when my oil temperature light comes on. (This, when we just had the oil changed on Monday.) I picture my engine overheating and my car in flames on the side of the road (I have seen this, in Detroit. Of course, in Detroit.) So, I drive straight to the dealership, get out, and beg them for car-fixing mercy, grumpy girls in tow. Here is what I am wearing as I try to charm the head of the Delta Imports service department: J. Crew khaki shorts, circa 1996, that are so short and frayed at the bottom I would never dream of wearing them in public, a hunter-green T-shirt, size XL, that I bought in Vienna - again, in 1996. It says, "Billy's Bones Irish Pub. Everbody Has to Learn to Drink Somewhere." Classy! Not showered. Hair in ponytail. No makeup. Flipflops. No snacks in the diaper bag. No toys.

After nearly 2 hours at the dealership, waiting for them to check out my car, we were on our way to Holland. Did the oil temp light come on for the mechanic when he took my car for a spin? No, it did not. Anyway, thank goodness for the vending machine and the kids' play area at the lovely dealership. The end result: we made jam. We are now home. And I need to shower more, lest my theory rear its ugly head again.