So on Sunday I decided that I needed to lay out. Somewhere between the tears and the eating at this past week’s funeral events, I managed to reach deep down into my shallow heart and notice that I am, in fact, the pastiest member of our entire extended family. Usually Allison wins this prize, but her unemployment has allowed her some extra one-on-one time with the sun that my cubicle prison life has not afforded me.
So my decision to lay out meant that I needed somewhere to actually do the laying out. We have access to Brian’s parents’ neighborhood pool, but I wasn’t up for the 15-minute drive. Well let me put that more honestly—my pathetic need for instant gratification wouldn’t allow me to wait 15 minutes before doing what I had decided to do. And I once attempted to lay out in our backyard on a towel on the ground, but with all the time spent shooing away the bugs and the dogs, it wasn’t a very successful effort, and as such, I decided not to give it another go.
As I am jogging my brain trying to come up with other options, a light bulb goes off—the driveway of our garage! It’s more private (and less trashy) than the front yard, and it’s a nice flat space that isn’t covered by shade. But the only problem is that I’m not a big fan of lying on the ground, even if it’s on a towel. And then another light bulb went off—Brian could pull his truck into the garage driveway and put his tail gate down!
And yes, friends, that is exactly what I did. In all my townie glory, I laid out in a swimsuit on a brightly covered beach towel in the bed of my husband’s truck in the driveway of our garage. Was I sweating profusely? Yes. Did I feel a little bit trashy any time a car drove by the street just 50 yards away? Yes. But did I get some sun out of the deal? You better believe it! So all in all, I’d say it was a success… both for my skin pigment and my quest to be a true townie.