|Powder coated metal stool from Target. $29 each but there's an offer at the moment where you can buy a pair for $49. Available in black and white. And yes, the price sticker comes off easily.|
And this, readers, is a case in point. Meet my new hair drying stool from Target.
Technically its a bar stool but we're plain talking here at the manor so a hair drying stool it is. Life is so hectic for all of us these days and that luxurious soak in the bath with a glass of wine and a good book all working mothers are meant to gift themselves after the children have been put to bed has its roots more in fantasy that any reality of mine. A hair drying stool is a more attainable luxury for me. It's hard not to feel a bit special when you've perched yourself on a comfy stool and tucked your feet wherever takes your fancy as you wave your dryer around your head and let your mind drift off to the tune of its loud white noise.
I'm having a chuckle at my own expense now because I think I've just written my own contribution to Coulda shoulda woulda's blog series Chairs and Their Anthropmorphic Personas. The Target interpretation of iconic furniture designs - the chair an acquaintance of yours might own because her off duty world is all about mum jeans, hiking shoes, dryer friendly clothing and surfaces which can be cleaned at a pinch by antiseptic wipes.
It's been all about the whimsical thoughts in my mind as the rest of me went about doing what had to be done.
I was at the pool this morning. Not the actual pool above but another one, designed for a wider audience. What they both have in common is lots of windows with natural light pouring through them and a few artfully placed palm trees poolside.
And it struck me. One thing I'd like to do with all my time when I get to retire. I'd like to be a lady retiree who gets to the pool to do her laps a few times a week.
I met a few of these ladies this morning and they're an absolute delight to be around. There was a cheery greeting for every one of of us who entered the change room after them. There was the latest gossip about their skirt chasing male friends. There was the insightful analysis of the personality traits of their more dysfunctional siblings. There was much happiness expressed at how easy life was when living alone and all you had to do was please yourself or host an adult grandchild, niece or nephew every so often.
Conversations were carried on between shower stalls. Bits and pieces were efficiently packed into bags before being tucked into wheelie cases and with a cloud of talcum powder and a hearty 'see you next week, girls' they were off with a spring in their step and a bounce in their sensibly cut but youthful bobs. And those smiles. Those genuine smiles of women living life and enjoying it together. Love your work, girls.
What's that little thing you do for yourself after the rest of the house has gone to bed?
Is there anything you can see yourself doing (already) when you're retired and have all those hours in the day to live just for you?