I Can No Longer Leave My House...

Also dressed to pick up the mail

...without looking okay. One of the things that delighted me about moving to Houston was the fact that women tend to get dressed, including makeup, when doing simple chores like buying groceries. I really appreciate the effort as I recall my mother dressing right after breakfast in full 1950's Leave it to Beaver style (maybe without the pearls) just to do housework and run errands.

Alas we daughters of women's liberation— and our daughters— have let that sense of urgency slide. I refuse to go all the way (i.e. t-shirt and shorts everywhere) but have been known to wear the rattiest and tattiest around the house— which includes the front yard and its environs.

Alas— no more. A customer at the Lovely Boutique where I work recognized me yesterday as being her neighbor down the street. Especially as she walks a little white dog in front of my house, I will now need to watch what I wear and just how crummy I look before picking up the paper, getting the mail or retrieving that CD from the car!

It's a point of pride. You see I truly believe it's important to always look your best, if only for yourself. It's a little bit of discipline, a minor accomplishment in the giant trajectory of life and one that is way too easy to let slip if you have a bit more time on your hands. I'm guilty of not taking my own advice and now feel guilty about it.

So, thanks for moving into 1313. The mailman just came, and now I have to get dressed.