Wednesday, October 07, 2009

Inside Out

There was a time a few years ago when I was living out of boxes. I had graduated from BYU the year prior and Tatum, Ranya and I moved from our lovely two bedroom to a four bedroom on the West side of town. (Side Note: Looking back, I have no idea why we moved. Sure, in the new place we each got our own room, but I know for a fact Tatum LOVED sharing a room with me, especially when I made her read her scriptures out loud to me at night. You know, since she was doing it anyway.) I had been commuting 90 miles each day to Salt Lake City and back for six months and right as we were moving I decided that I was tired of the drive and wanted to move to Salt Lake (Insert boy drama in Provo that I wanted to get away from and the opportunity to live with Lindsay, current roommate extraordinaire).

This was an awesome decision to make after just signing a year-long contract.

But I had made the decision and felt like it was the right thing to do so I went through the process of trying to find someone to buy my contract. I was looking for someone to take my place immediately and didn't know when I'd have to pack up and leave, so I just never unpacked to begin with. This brings me back to where I started.

There was a time a few years ago when I was living out of boxes.

And I was getting up early due to a 60+ minute commute and, still being fairly new to the job, I was adhering to an 8:00 or 8:30 start time (as opposed to the 9:15 start time I was rocking when I left). It was early and it was dark and everything was in boxes and for some reason I rarely bothered to turn on any lights while I was getting ready.

One day I ran into my kooky supervisor (She could be the subject of another post all on her own. One quick tidbit: she had a vest and matching socks for nearly every holiday.) and she made a comment about me getting dressed in the dark. I was almost always confused when she tried to make jokes so I gave her a courtesy laugh and said, “Actually, I usually do get dressed in the dark.” To which she replied that she could believe it because my sweater was on inside out.

An embarrassing moment made even worse by the fact that I needed fashion advice from a woman who wore holiday vests. Not as a joke.

Luckily I had arrived early enough that she was one of the few people who had seen me that day, but that didn't really matter because, in true Stephanie style, I told the story that day to anyone who would listen (and even those who weren't listening).

I mean, why keep all the fun to myself?

And now I’m sharing with you. You’re welcome.

1 comment:

Jase, Tate & Gav said...

I know what were we thinking! That was a bad move. I did love sharing a room with you! Now I share a room with an old fart...ewe.