I Don't Live a Perfect Life

Just in case you were wondering, here's proof:

For some reason I've been absolutely exhausted lately. So last night at 10 o'clock when my warm cozy bed was calling my name - I forsook the Jazzercise wear I had just washed and decided to leave it in the machine. The thought did cross my mind that it might sour overnight - but I figured if I took it out right when I woke up this morning (usually around 6:30 am) it would probably be fine. After all, Justin did just take the washing machine apart and clean it all.

Now, I'm going to try and be as cryptic as possible here so the creepy googlers don't start stalking me. Let me start by saying that while teaching Jazzercise I wear special underwear. I never used to wear this special underwear - in fact, I will confess to you that I used to be too prudish to even consider it. But after looking at myself in the mirror a couple times, and considering the fact that at any given time while teaching anywhere from 5 to 50 students could be staring at me for an hour, I decided I didn't want lines to show and I also didn't want anything digging into my well-endowed hips under my form fitting workout pants. So anyway, one run-on sentence later, I finally found these. They fit all my Jazzercisin'-special-underwear-needs perfectly.

If you clicked on that link - you may have noticed that these special underwear cost a pretty penny. I bought a bunch of them (new) off e-bay which helped, but was still a small investment. Good thing it's also a tax write-off for me. Heh heh - underwear a tax write-off? Nice. Being such, I try and take good care of them. I have enough to last me a couple weeks worth of classes so every couple weeks I wash them in cold water, a little Woolite, a little Borax and then I hang them to dry. Well, tonight as I was getting ready to go to class I grabbed a pair that I had washed last night and noticed that they had, in fact, soured. Ugh. Fortunately, I remembered that I had one last pair in my drawer and decided to throw the rest of them into the utility sink with a little Oxy-clean. All of them (except one). In the sink. With Oxy-clean.

So I go grab the one lone pair and the pants I was going to wear, go to use the facilities and throw my clothes (the one lone pair) on the bathroom floor. As I picked them up to put them on - approximately 5 minutes until departure time - I notice they're wet. Hm. That's strange. I wonder how they got wet? Did Justin take a shower and a little water got on the floor? No. I glance toward the potty seat sitting in the corner. Could it possibly be? No! No way! Not my one lone pair. Not Steele missing the potty seat. No! Please no! My one lone pair!

Yup. My one lone pair. Steele missing the potty.

I felt a surge of rage come over me that only a mother of a three-year-old-who-cannot-possibly-be-blamed for missing the potty seat can possibly feel. You know the feeling - the same feeling you get when you go to put on your dress for church on Sunday only to realize it has spit-up on it. The same feeling you get when you finally find another outfit to wear to church and as you're running late your toddler gives you a big syrup laden hug around the leg. You know the feeling. The feeling you can't do anything about except get a hold of yourself. Get a hold of yourself Cutzi! It's just underwear! And a little bit of pee!

So tonight folks? I gave a whole new meaning to freestyle Jazzercise.