Overcoming

So... I've mentioned before, how I may-- just possibly-- have some OCD tendencies.  See this post for a little more detail.  But I've been making great strides.  I still take the kids to the library, and I'll even touch the puzzles a little.  In the interest of full disclosure, I do have to tell you that when the girls bring books home, I've devised a method of reading to them called You-Turn-The-Pages-And-Mommy-Reads; it's super fun and works well for everyone.  I throw some hand sanitizer on the girls afterwards, and I don't feel the need to scrub my skin off.  Win-win.

Which brings us to the current situation.  Today, Erin's coming back to town!  She's done with her finals at Notre Dame and is ready to PARTY!  We're getting together with the tennis girls and are going to have a jolly (seasonal adjective!) good time.  More specifically, we're getting together with the tennis girls, and everyone who is able will be wearing ugly Christmas sweaters!  I'm pretty excited about the prospect.  I have this secret desire to host an ugly Christmas sweater party, but with three little ones, the time just isn't right. 

The only problem with the plan was that I don't have a hideous sweater.  I mean, let's be honest, six weeks post-birth, I'm just trying to find some halfway decent-looking clothes to wear.  So I needed something amazing.  Where do you go to find something amazing without dropping an absurd amount of money?  Goodwill, of course.

If you know me, you will be proud of me.  If you think the library sends me running for the bleach and steel wool, just imagine how I am at Goodwill.  After Mike got home last night, I jumped in the car and headed over there.  I walked in, full of confidence... well, trying to be full of confidence.  I was pleased to see a whole rack labeled, specifically, Holiday Party Sweaters.  Score.  I rifled through the tops and found one that I think is pretty awesome.  I'm not going to say anything more right now because I plan on posting pictures later and don't want to ruin the surprise. 

However, even though my find-- which I eventually went home with-- seemed to take the cake immediately, I thought I would be remiss if I didn't at least browse the sweater section.  So off I went.  I started pretty well.  I touched the sweaters as lightly and as rarely as I could, but I did touch them.  Still, it really only took me about two minutes to get that creepy-crawly feeling. 

I really can't describe it, but I'm not exaggerating when I say that it makes me want to take a scalding shower with the harshest soap available.  And I do feel a little like screaming as I can feel the germs eating away at my epidermis.  Oh my gosh, just remembering it is giving me the willies.  Please, can anyone relate?  And describe this better?! 

Ugh.  I'm going to cut this short.  Here's the tremendous ending to my tale: as I was heading towards the checkout, I caught sight of the perfect gift for my brother.  So, Brandon, when you get your gift, remember that it's coming with a lot of love, from someone who sacrificed the top four layers of skin to pick it up for you. :)