THE BOX OF MISCONCEPTION

Despite my best efforts at cleanliness, the Sigety home turned into a disaster zone again last week. We got back late (SUPER LATE) Sunday night from Christmas break in Texas and had to jump right back into reality. Suitcases were open all over the living room with their contests spilling out like dirty laundry treasure chests. Dishes in the sink were somehow multiplying like rabbits – how to they always do that?! And papers were scattered as if a fresh blanket of snow across our dinner table. (and, who am I kidding, all over the floor too.) Yup, there’s the scene, in all its embarrassing glory: my home post vacation.

With an opening like that, you might think “Ok Kim – here you go…another post about cleaning your house – get over it…or at least clean it and stop talking about it already.” Hey! Before your sarcastic tone gets any worse I better get to the hilarity of this post.

On Friday (after a week of living in apartment clutter and chaos) I decided to clean up my act. So when I found an empty box at work, I decided it might help me organize a few things over the weekend. Thus, when that blessed 5 o clock rolled around, I headed for the elevator with box in hand. I quickly realized though, that holding my purse, what was left of my lunch, a book, a few other odds and ends AND a box was no easy task. Lucky for me though – I’m super resourceful! So just before the elevator doors opened and my exodus was in sight, I put everything I was carrying into my box. I felt so proud to have solved my problem. I then not only sported my 5 o clock smile, but also my self-satisfied smirk. I held my box in a bear hug in front of me and down 37 floors I went.

Something strange happened when I walked out onto the ground level though. People were looking at me. And not the usual, “That girl is so drop dead gorgeous I want to pinch myself” looks…haha – rrrrright. No, people were glancing at me and then looking away, a few even just stared. First thought: do I have a boogie on my nose or maybe spinach in my teeth? Then I looked down at my outfit (the likes of which I was rather proud of that day) and tried to convince myself that they might just be checking me out. But if that were the case…these people really needed to learn how to check someone out! Sheesh!

Despite the looks, I kept walking and smiling and hugging my box. I headed down the steps of my building (think the steps from Rocky…in heels while holding a box – I’m a crazy woman!) and turned the corner toward where John was picking me up. There, about 5 feet in front of me, was a guy. We were both going the same way…and the percussion of my heels was anything but inconspicuous. He did one of those subtle turn-arounds as if he were looking at something way behind us in the distance. Come on dude – I know you were looking at me and my clickity-clacking heels. And as he did look at me, he cocked his head slightly. Awkward. But I just smiled and he smiled back. Only his smile seemed a little puzzled. I couldn’t tell if he was checking me out, or if he was confused by me. Ah well, I decided to go with the latter…cause I’d rather be good looking than confusing.

I finally made it to our civic. Wherein, I proceeded to brag to John about how some guy checked me out on the way to the car. You know, as if to tell my husband that I haven’t turned into an old frumpy married woman and that he’s just so darn lucky to have someone as desirable as me. But before he responded to my dubious declaration – he said through a slight chuckle, “Did you get fired, dear?”

WHAT?! What was he talking about? Fired? Um….no? Oh….OH….OOHH!

THE BOX.

THAT’S why everyone was staring at me! Me and my box looked like we’d just been kicked to the curb…like I’d been given the old heave-ho out of the office…like the boss man had given me the boot…like my keester got canned…like…well, you get the idea.

It all made sense to me now…the looks…the confusion…the awkwardness…the guy with the puzzled look. I must have looked like the happiest fired girl in the world. I was so satisfied with my box solution that it hadn’t even dawned on me what it looked like to the rest of the world. I thought I was thinking outside the box - so much for ingenuity.

The bad news: no one checked me out. The good news: I’m not fired. The even better news: my house is now clean.

So if you work in an office, don’t carry all your stuff home in a box. Take it from me - it just doesn’t look right.