We went to my husband’s Christmas party on Friday. I bought a $30 dress on-line to wear to it—my first one-shoulder number ever (only about eight years behind the trend) and as of three hours before the party started it still had not arrived in the mail. I went for a run at 5PM and came home to see the mail lady leaving our house and lo and behold, a Christmas miracle! My dress was in the mailbox! (Yes, I know it’s saying something about me that I bought a dress that fits in a mailbox along with a bunch of Christmas cards and three Pottery Barn catalogues. Go ahead. Judge me.)
I was only slightly disheartened to open the package and see the dress was not royal blue as it looked on my computer screen but rather royal purple. I could live with that. I was happy to see the silver one-shoulder strap was actual, real rhinestones, not just that ropey material that they sometimes spray paint silver on cheap clothes. But on closer inspection I saw that the one-shoulder rhinestone strap was…broken. Broken! Just like my dreams. Shattered like cheap rhinestones.
Looking even closer I saw that someone with a lot of patience might be able to fix the strap.
Then I remembered I have the patience of a three-year-old.
A very ornery three-year-old.
Enter: my husband, the Patron Saint of Patience. I tossed him the dress, showed him the turtle neck and sweatpants I’d wear if he didn’t get it fixed, and went to do my hair. An hour later we showed up to the party, compliments of Krazy Glue. Patience be damned, I was going to wear that dress! We walked into the warehouse-like room to see everyone huddling in groups to keep warm, it was so c-c-c-c-c-cold. Even the guys weren’t offering the girls their jackets. It was too cold for chivalry; this party was a true survival-of-the-fittest kind of affair.
I wore my jacket for all but a very miserable four minutes of the party so no one could see so much as the hem of my dress. It made me sorry I made fun of the Snuggies they were passing out at last year’s Christmas party.
Anyway, here are thirty seconds of those four minutes.
WHAT’S COOKIN’ 2NITE:
Sprite and saltines