I actually, put myself in a vertical position, showered, blow-dried my hair, put actual makeup on (which was pointless, except that it gave me that little oomph towards feeling like a real girl again). And thankfully, despite having my innards all full of air still, I found a pair of jeans I could squeeze into. Note to self: belts with lots of metal, shoes with buckles and blingy jeans are not friends with metal detectors, duh.
I never did make it through the detector without setting it off, thankfully I looked harmless enough and so did Ty (that guy has got enough metal in his body to power a small country), that they let us go up anyway. Good thing too, if I'd had to remove my jeans I'm not really sure there was anyway I'd be getting back into them.
Everything went well, except there was a delay in proceedings due to the traffic jam caused by pothole repairs on the freeway. But the important thing is that things went well. On the way home we even ventured to make a pit-stop for a burger pick-up. Both Ty and I had reached our out-n-about limits, it was time to be home.
I came home, did that burger some justice, and then crawled back into my stretchy pants and under the covers where I belonged. But this weekend I did manage to wash my sheets (I am sure there is nothing better for the soul than fresh, warm sheets), clean the bathroom mirror and shine up the faucets. It's not the corner, but it's a start. And I can be happy with a start.
All of this seems so trivial in light of other very serious tragedies, both in the lives of people I know and those I don't. I know it is. My heart goes out to those people. I am so, so sorry for your loss. There are no words, only love.