I live in Virginia now. That is a story for another day, for now I'm going to fast-forward through a series of moments where I either felt
awkward, brain dead, or inadequate to arrive at today. Today is
“Galentine’s Day.” I don’t watch television, so that means very little to me other
than the fact that a group of women from church were having a Galentine’s Day
party. After being stuck indoors all day long I didn’t care what the reason
was I needed to get out of the house, so I went. The roads were slick and
snowy. I had a little bit of trouble getting out of the driveway, but it looked
to be mostly okay so I kept driving.
I got all the way to the street where the party was only to
catch just enough ice to swerve and get high-centered on a pile of snow.
Awesome. I will go ahead and stereotype myself; nobody should ever let a
Florida girl drive her prius around at night where the roads are snowy. It
should be forbidden.
Of course I am made up of one part stubborn and one part
ridiculous so I was out there on hands and knees trying to dig my car out of
this mess. It didn’t take long to figure out that wasn’t going to work so I ran
at full speed down the street to ask if I could borrow a snow shovel. During my
sprint I passed an older woman walking along on the icy sidewalks. When she saw
the crazy woman running towards her she got scared, slipped on the ice and fell
right over into a freezing puddle.
So I started screaming and she started screaming and she wouldn’t let me
help her because she was terrified of me. Meanwhile my car is still half way
down the street, hazard lights a’beamin. I'm pretty sure that this lady is just as much of a drama queen as I am. She told me, "just go. Forget me. Save yourself!" So I took off running the rest of the
way down the street.
It wasn’t hard to find the party house; it was decorated
with cutesy red and pink baubles everywhere. I rang the doorbell and a
beautiful, cheerful redhead answered the door. She had a singsong voice and
started to say “Oh! Come on…” and I cut her off to demand a snow shovel. I'm sure I was a sight all covered in wet and snow with my hair trying to decide if it would rather be in dreads or produce electricity. Luckily, she was kind enough to
get one for me.
I got the shovel. I dug my car out. I drove back down the street
holding the shovel out my driver’s side door. Whatever, I made it to this
Galentine extravaganza. The only problem was that I am a socially awkward
individual. I didn’t know any of the women there, they don’t know me, and so I
just sat in the corner and tried to warm up before I could leave again. I felt like an animal. My hair was getting frizzier on the top and more matted on the bottom and I'm sure I had a scowl on my face from being out in the cold so long. Not to mention I found out that I bashed my hand during all the car madness and it
had swollen to the size of my face. So I ate my sorrows away with heavily
frosted, heart shaped cookies and bailed.
I would blame Amy Poehler, but that doesn't seem like a very Galentiney thing to do.
