Exhaustion

The Old Baguette is fried.  She's so exhausted she feels like a bag of croutons.  She's been cleaning out her one and only clothes closet to make room for new acquisitions:  hand-me-downs from a friend with good taste and bargains from a moving out sale on the 4th floor.  Everyone, absolutely everyone, was there to offer advice.  "Oh, that looks terrific on you.  Get it!"  Or, "That looks awful!  Don't get it."  The prices at moving sales, while not quite as good as the prices of hand-me-downs, are nonetheless excellent.  My new wardrobe cost less than $32.00 of my hard unearned money. 

Halloween is coming up soon, and the source of the Baguette's hand-me-downs is having a party. The Baguette'sgoing to wear her donor's clothes and go as her.  At the moving out sale, the Baguette told a friend about her costume.  The friend suggested  that a name tag would help guests understand the identity of the woman inside the clothes.  What a great idea!  The Old Baguette hopes she doesn't get her outfit elements mixed up.  That would never do.

The Baguette's mother taught French.  A student became a close friend.  Mary was very smart, but she wasn't the slightest bit interested in breaking any glass ceilings.  No, indeed.  She spent her life cooking and taking care of children.  These were not ordinary children.  Their parents had good taste, dressed their little girls beautifully,and had too much money to fuss with clothes that were outgrown. The Petite Pain got them. Mary made sure of that.  When the Petite Pain was three, her mother thought she had too many dresses, so she inventoried  the Petite Pain's wardrobe.  How many dresses were jammed in that closet?A total of  67.  They were all lovely, but she never got to wear the  the velvets and silks trimmed with lace that make little girls think they're  princesses.  Whenever the Petite Pain wore a dress, it was a simple cotton affair.   Most of the time she wore blue jeans and Tshirts.  The first dress her mother bought for her was her First Communion dress.  She was almost seven.  That wardrobe inventory wore her mother out.  She never made another.  Instead, she'd tell Mary that if the Petite Pain had any more clothes she'd be spoiled rotten and that Mary should stop bringing the hand me downs.  As always, Mary ignored  the Petite Pain's mother completely and continued hauling in the goodies.  The closet remained  stuffed with unworn designer dresses, and the child  was not spoiled rotten because she wore blue jeans.  The Old Baguette has mulled over this particular strategy her mother claimed would prevent spoilage and has concluded  that her mother didn't want to wash and then  iron those cute frilly dresses that required special handling.  Nor did she want to pay to have the unwashables dry cleaned.  Ergo, those troublesome dresses shouldn't be worn.  And weren't worn.