|Vintage thrifted Montgomery Ward cardigan; Gap legging jeans; thrifted Michael Stars long-sleeved tee; Frye boots; Urban Outfitters necklace|
I am a planner. I enjoy making lists and crossing tasks off as I complete them. I schedule appointments months ahead. I plan outfits days in advance and lay out my clothes the night before. I organize my day and stick to objectives with an almost militant precision. Spontaneous outings send me into a panic. No, I like things to be structured, predictable. This makes me feel like I'm in control of my life. Sure, it might be a sham, this feeling of control, but it works for me.
Naturally, when crisis comes, I find myself completely unhinged. Take this weekend, when one of my twins barfed all over my bed. A sick, vomiting child sends me into a panic, rushing to my computer for a obsessive search of symptoms on WebMD. Is it bubonic plague? A stomach virus? Dysentery? My mind spirals through a encyclopaedic, increasing terrifying collective of illnesses. What if he becomes dehydrated and needs intravenous fluids? Does he have an antibiotic-resistant super bug, like they showed on 20/20? What if he infects the rest of us? OH MY GOD ARE WE GOING TO DIE, A TERRIBLE DEATH WHERE NO ONE KNOWS WE'RE DEAD UNTIL THE SMELL HITS OUR NEIGHBORHOOD???
It helps to have a simple, comfortable outfit to rely on when I'm facing my imminent end. A vintage cardigan and weathered pair of boots is soothing, and when accessorized by a liberal application of hand sanitizer and Lysol, even better.