It happened.

It happened. It finally happened.
I knew it was only a matter of time. I mean, you mix me, a calendar with bookings for people I often don't know through phone, email, texts and random church conversations and then have those bookings change due to weather, wind, or sick kids or any number of events, and eventually the law of probability dictates that I will somehow screw up and ultimately humiliate myself.

Today probability won.

So it's about oh, 12:50 or so and I'm still in my nightgown. Hey, it's spring break. So gimme a break. I had a shoot at 3pm for a doctor at CMC and decided that showering prior to the shoot wasn't a bad idea. And so I'm showering away, thinking about how important it is to not screw up the doctor pictures and as I'm massaging shampoo into my hair, the doorbell rings.

Huh? Dang door to door salesman people.

But just in case, I tiptoe out of the shower and see an suv parked out front.

OH. MY. GOD!

At 1pm today I was supposed to have a meeting with a wedding client to discuss such professional sounding things as wedding contracts, pose lists, and package details.

So, here I am, shampoo still in my hair, two days worth of mascara running down my cheeks, and an office in no telling what kind of condition and standing at my front door is the mother of the bride.

You know, it's moments like these, when I'm shreiking out "oh my God!" while praying fervently that I am just having some terrible dream, that I have to wonder how much fun God must have watching us. I mean really. He knew she was driving down my street as I stepped into the shower. He saw it coming. Now, I don't think God was sitting back with a bowl of popcorn thinking, "Gotcha!", but more along the lines of, "Oh, that Jenny..." with a small grin on his face.

So, there are a series of thoughts running through my mind. I could ignore her. Make up some excuse - my son had to go to the er, we all had the stomach flu, i left town unexpectedly - and then apologize profusely. OR I could answer the door and request we reschedule which would no doubt annoy the woman. Or I could open the door, confess I am a fool, and go on with life.

I threw on the first clothes I could find, towel dried my hair enough to hide the shampoo, wiped the mascara from my eyes with the back of my hand, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

I just looked at her and laughing, said, "I am soooo sorry! I am so sorry! I completely forgot about our meeting and was in the shower when the doorbell rang. I am so terribly embarassed."

She just laughed and said, "Oh, honey, that's the story of my life."

I showed her inside, asked her to give me a few minutes, and put on some concealer to hide my abundant blemishes, and then returned.

We had the meeting, I with wet hair running down my back and sad little racoon-esque eyes, and she with her notebook of perfectly organized notes and comments.

But somehow, she didn't fire me. She didn't even really seem to notice. She was gracious and I still managed to go over all the details of the contract with some level of composure.

So, it happened. The first missed appointment. There will be more. It's an inevitable fact of my life. But, at least i survived the first one.