All right, all right, all right. I did finally get that pocket put in. It is not the greatest but it will do. I am pretty happy about it and will be wearing that dress a lot more often now. So how many days and weeks and months and hours did that take me?
Several thousand, I reckon.
And then I pulled another dress out of the closet that I do like but almost never wear because it doesn't have pockets and I rectified that situation in about twenty minutes. The dress is one I got at the World Market a long time ago and it's similar to that beloved old hippie staple- the Mexican wedding dress. Or what we called Mexican wedding dresses. You know- embroidery around the neck and related areas.
I remember when I was married to my first husband and we lived for a few years in a ten-by-fifty foot trailer on a piece of land we'd bought a few miles down the road from here, basically in the woods. We were going to try and build our own house but, well. Mmmm.
We did eventually buy an old house in Monticello and had it moved to the property and the ex and another friend of ours who was an actual carpenter, fixed that house up pretty nice and I loved it so much but that's not what I meant to discuss.
No. What I meant to discuss was how fucking hot it was in that trailer. It was horrible. It was hell. It was one tiny sliver away from unbearable. And so, one day we went to Tallahassee where we bought a used window unit air conditioner, installed that bad boy in the window of our bedroom which was basically a tin sweat box with one window in it, and oh my god- it was the best thing ever.
We laid there that night on our bed with the Indian print bedspread tacked on the wall and we were chilly.
And you know what? We felt guilty. We thought about all of our friends who were sweating in their beds in the shed/shacks with latrines that they'd BUILT themselves and here we were, luxuriating in artificially cooled air in our red shag carpeted trailer with running water and a bathroom. I mean, we were breaking all sorts of back-to-the-land hippie codes. I probably even had some canned beans in the kitchen cabinet.