The Cleaning Lady

The cleaning lady has been MIA for a while now and I had to get down to business and try to distinguish clean from dirty laundry as it piles in baskets on my bedroom floor. This is my morning. Yeah me. Emily clomps around in high heels she drags from beneath the layers of dust bunnies and dog fur hidden in the bottom of the closet somewhere and I get confused, again, about where I left off in my insurmountable project. This is more than a "calgon, take me away" moment....this is war. Now it's time for a break from the battle as I check my email and find I have a dinner date with an old high school friend who I haven't seen or spoken to since we were 18 years old. I wasn't nervous about this until she wrote today and asked if I was wearing my high school clothes. What does that mean? And I hope she is joking. She mentioned bringing pictures too. Yuck! I can say, with complete certainty that NO ONE wants to see how I looked back in '88. Except for a laugh. Let's see, if I remember correctly,I had long permed hair with big frizzy bangs, oversize white t-shirt with a man's suit jacket ( bought for change at Value Village)rolled at the sleeves, skin tight black leggings and black Chuck Taylor High Tops. The 80's were an interesting fashion decade, with my limited income and love for anything punk and wild, I was an interesting mix of pop culture and fashion victim. So the dinner is in a few hours and now I feel butterflies in my stomach. This is something I wouldn't even bothered with a few years ago, but it's my graduating class' 20 year reunion in a few weeks, and while I am curious, I have no real interest in revisiting that time of my life. So why am I meeting her? I have no idea, except that for a brief yet intense time of my life she was my friend.