This week was long. And tough. And stressful. And next week is going to be worse. And by the end of the day…well, let’s just say I was not exactly a sunshine beam of joy and the kind of person who would inspire other people to become teachers.
So I was driving home after work, feeling sorry for myself, and feeling irritated that I was, (because how lame is that–sitting in your car, moping?) when genius struck. I may not be able to afford a day at a spa, but I have acquired enough random ingredients used in natural beauty care (thanks, homemade Christmas), that I have enough stuff to concoct a decent DIY spa night for myself.
So I ran to the Dollar Tree, picked up some Epsom salts and a random pedicure set, and have returned home, determined to defeat the Sorry-For-Me, Mid-Winter Blues. I’m wearing my super comfy leggings and my ugly, old, secondhand sweatshirt (these three adjectives combined, by the way, guarantee that it is basically my favorite, and anytime I don’t have to be professional and the temperature is below 60, I am probably wearing it…)
I poured myself a glass of wine. I turned on my Partridge Family Pandora station. (I know, I know, you’re probably laughing at me, but I’m not kidding. How can you feel mopey when you’re listening to “Come On, Get Happy”? I mean, seriously?) Then, I sat down at my kitchen table-turned-command post and drew up my game plan.
I Pinterest-ed it up, and have a thorough itinerary that very well my carry me into tomorrow morning. I found a DIY foot soak and then a lavender foot cream. There’s a mega-easy hand scrub. I have five different face masks to choose from. I can finally use that sugar scrub my sister-in-law gave me for Christmas. I’ve picked the colors I’m going to use for my toenails and fingernails. I even found a hair mask for curly hair. I am determined to do this up right. And I am excited about it.
Sometimes, I think people who have the money and never have to DIY anything miss out. There is something so fun and satisfying about putting together things from what you’ve got in the house (or things you order off of Amazon, because the struggle is real…) If it works, it’s like this great Christmas surprise, and if it doesn’t, it fails in a spectacular fashion that is hilarious once you’ve cleaned up the mess and apologized to your neighbors about the fire alarm. Plus, for a frugal girl like me, there is that intrinsic victory I feel whenever I’m like “Ha-ha! I am defeating over-spending in America! Look at how much fun I had and what I made and how little I spent!”
Even before I’ve started it (I’m going to pour the foot soak once I post this…) my DIY Spa Night is already a success. I’m gleefully plotting all my little recipes and rooting around in my cabinets, trying to find the vinegar, and the stress and frustration of the week are fading into perspective. The world loses its bleakness. Or, in the words of the Beatles song that’s playing on Pandora right now,
“Here comes the sun, and I say–It’s alright.”
Because it is. It’s alright.