Moving Day has come and gone. It was amazing on all accounts. Before I get to that, I have a story to document. It was the culmination of sheer exhaustion, meeting my flair for the overdramatic, and a little bit of crazy thrown in.
This new charming country home we are living in has the most charming upstairs hideaway little girl attic extravaganza. It is darling and closet less. So, after about a week of my girls living in boxes, we took a break and I headed up to Ikea with my oldest daughter to pick up a couple of wardrobes for their hideaway.
We headed upstairs to look at all of the options in person. It was confirmed that our online choice was indeed the best option for our budget and space in their new room. We took down the aisle and bin number and began to head downstairs.
I looked down and suddenly my heart practically stopped. I was turning blue. My palms, my knuckles. This couldn’t be good. I texted my sister and my husband. I panicked because it wouldn’t rub off. Even after a trip to soap and water. Nothing. I was definitely blue. Smurf like really.
I had my 12 year old with me and I was trying to maintain my calm, but I seriously began to think that something would in fact have to be seriously wrong with my blood flow to cause blue palms and knuckles. Right?
I called my friend who is an er nurse. She didn’t answer.
Then I did it. I know I shouldn’t have, but I did. I had no choice really.
Oh my word. Diabetes, heart disease, arthritis, blood clots. Now I feel sick with worry and I stop. I begin to wonder if I should drive with my daughter.
We purchase the wardrobes. Four boxes of 340 pounds worth of fabulousness and out the door we were. If I was going down, the wardrobes were coming along.
I leave my daughter and the boxes at the loading zone to go get the car. I decided to call my sister and hash this out live because really by this point I am sorta thinking it could be my last call. In a last desperate attempt to heal myself and upon my sisters recommendation, I take the box of baby wipes to my skin and low and behold the wipes turn blue. I was cured. A miracle.
That armoire was the prettiest shade of blue I ever did see. It forced me to pet it. Multiple times. I couldn’t understand why such a pretty color would be on clearance. Now I know.
Thank you for the anxiety attack.
The girl with the blue hands.