Flying High

So, I don't really like to use my blog to brag about myself or talk about how awesome my life is, blah blah blah. Don't get me wrong, my life is great, but I happen to think the humor and humanness of a good life is found in the mishaps and the insecurities and other such things. I don't ever want to be that person who sends the Holiday letter full of bragging about how amazing they are and how brilliant their children are and how much better the whole family is than the rest of the world. It's just not my bag.

BUT

Today I was pulled into my boss' office to talk about my yearly review.

I had a pretty good year. I was finally promoted from my executive admin position and into marketing last August and received my first raise since starting at the company two years before. I accomplished some cool things and love my new boss and feel like I have great chemistry with my team. We work well together and we sell the crap out of our technology. So I figured I would get a standard 5-7% cost of living raise and a good review.

Oh how wrong I was. (And here comes the part I am cringing about and hoping I don't sound like a pompous a**)

I got a rave review, a promotion and a huge - no, unbelievably huge raise. I almost died. I literally almost fell out of my chair.

This news came absolutely out of the blue. I have been walking on clouds all day. Naturally, the promotion and raise come with added responsibility and the guarantee of working more hours and being much more accountable for certain aspects of the sales and marketing team, but OH MY GOSH.

So, in all honesty, my waning participation in the blog world will probably continue. I still plan to be involved and to comment, it just might be less frequently and with less fervor and enthusiasm. But it doesn't mean I don't love you all. I swear.

So, as an apology, I give you a mini-Kateastrophe.

I have this shirt that I love. It's this gorgeous dark chocolate brown V-neck that is so soft and comfortable. I get excited every time I wash it because I get to wear it again. However, it has a little bit of a "bleeding" problem. I have ruined a few tank tops and a bra with it.

So, on Wednesday I had my appointment with the trainer at the gym. I had worn my brown shirt that day. I changed my clothes and went to the mirror to put my hair up in a ponytail and gasped. The shirt had finally crossed the line. It had dyed my armpits an orangy-brown color. I had about four minutes before I had to go warm up so I grabbed a few paper towels and got them wet and put a little bit of soap on them and started to rub at my armpits furiously. This is of course the exact moment that an old lady decided to walk up next to me and she just . . . stared. I tried to ignore her for a minute, but it was getting annoying, so I finally turned to her and said "my shirt dyed my armpits orange! I can't just go out there and lift weights with orange armpits!!"

"Ooooooh" she replied. "I just thought you were just a weirdo clean freak."

Thanks lady. Thanks a lot.