Ratty Clothes and a Scrungey Day

Spending a day at home is one of my favorite ways to spend a day. I came close to doing that today. I wasn’t positive when I got up (very late) if I would need to visit my daughter in town or not, but I thought I probably would not be needed in any way since she had a doctor’s appointment followed up by an afternoon of planned activity. So I hurriedly dressed in the rattiest stay-at-home clothes I could quickly find. Since my hair is a mess right now, I did not see any purpose in putting on makeup although I usually do.

Now wearing ratty clothes is another of my favorite things to do. I love not caring if I spill something or snag something. I love wearing something that might bring back good memories of when the garment was not old. Some days I love looking and feeling scrungey.

Is there such a word as “scrungey”? It’s not in my spell check. But if there is not such a word, there should be because you know exactly what I mean, don’t you? Stains. Faded. Out-of-date. Deliciously scrungey. Of course.

Don’t completely misunderstand me. Sometimes I enjoy dressing up also. And I can delight in a new piece of clothing if it truly “feels” like me. But that is another story. Today I wanted to be scrungey. And I was. Top-notch scrungey, in fact.

Then a phone call came. The doctor was running late. My daughter was trapped there in his office. Could I do a favor for her? So deliciously scrungey, I set off for town, which was not what I had dressed for.

But no one was at her house where I did the needed errand. And except for two other errands I decided to do for myself, I would not have been seen by anyone. My first errand: fill the empty gas tank. Of course, the gas release grip messed up and I had to march over to get help from the attendant. I tried to play like I was invisible. The young man was kind and helpful and did not act like I was a bum. He probably thought I could not afford decent clothes what with the price of gas being what it is.

Next I stopped on the way out of town to recycle the newspapers in the trunk that I didn’t get recycled on my last trip to town. Although I ran into the attendant and one other patron there, I was grateful for old clothes as I ran back and forth in the hot mid-day sun with inky newspapers to throw them into the big cardboard collection box there. I got home just in time to prepare lunch for Gerald, and I didn’t have to worry if my hurry made me messy or if I dropped food when I ate, which I am capable of doing.

One unexpected brief afternoon guest also got to see my beat-up clothes. Otherwise I was home alone with husband and thoroughly enjoyed the relaxing day catching up on some emails, putting away laundry, and doing a bit of reading to rest between chores. In fact, it was a deliciously scrungey day.