The Moral of the Story

Don't panic, peeps.......I've not gone missin' in the desert. I was simply getting into the vacation groove yesterday. Went for a walk, worked out, had a steam (simply delightful for sweating out all of the toxins I put into my body) and sat by the pool for the remainder of the day, interrupted only by lunch and (de)hydration needs. It was sheer genius to bring the husband along this year. He PLAYS with our child. I love my kiddo but I don't "play" per se. Jack was happy as a clam as not only did his dad hang out and shoot aqua hoops with him, his grandma took him to Target. He came home armed with Legos and a bunch of other shit. While he was otherwise occupied, I proceeded to bag some rays and read a book. Sitting still is not my general MO but I can do it in the right situation. And this was one of 'em. VERY relaxing. At one point, Dave looks over at me and says, "You missed a spot with the sunscreen". I look at my arm. Shit. Bright red blob. Here we go again. This harkens back to a story that involves the beginning of my inevitable comeuppance. Remember, I am FORMERLY fabulous. Rewind four or five years. Same pool, same cast of characters. I'm floating around in one of those pool chairs, cocktail in cupholder, soaking up the sun and feeling rather self-satisfied in spite of the fact that I had done absolutely nothing to deserve my good fortune. As I was floating around, la, la, la, my best friend, who was not able to go on spring break and who remained in snowy Colorado called. Now, at my parents house, they will not tolerate phone avoidance. There's no frantic head shaking and mouthing of "I'm not here". If it rings and it's for you, you're talking. Which is annoying. I didn't really want my enjoyment of the moment interrupted by having to chat it up. Well, when pressed as to what I was up to I did not hold back. I think "it's good to be me, sucks to be you" may have been loosely (okay, overtly) implied. I should have been smacked. Apparently the universe agreed. It seems that the sunscreen that I had been applying was EXPIRED. Lilly white skin + Arizona sun + expired sunscreen = NOT GOOD. In fact, Jack just walked in and said, "Whatcha bloggin' about?" I said, "The time I got that crazy sunburn". Jack: "OH GOD. You were as red as a LOBSTER". Yes, yes I was. I had such a bad sunburn that I could not get out of bed for an entire day. The very sheets touching my skin were a new kind of agony. When I was able to ambulate the next day, I had to wear a ridiculously flowy skirt so as not to have my legs come into contact with anything of substance. It was awful. Since then, I have been very careful to not be smug. About anything. It doesn't end well. Karmic comeuppance is a bitch. The moral o' the story is to keep your freakin' piehole shut and appreciate the very wonder of your existence. And don't use expired sunscreen. Particularly if you're of Scots/Irish decent. Owie.