So, clearly my storytelling skills have been on the increase, right? Well, apparently my style skills have had the opposite trajectory. Today I did the HUGE pile of laundry that had accumulated over the past some number of days that I've been sick. And, did I happen to have any clean laundry come out of all that effort? Um...well...yes. One pair of P.J.s that had seriously earned their place in the laundry basket a couple days into my funk. After folding all of said laundry, I was bushed and I went to bed to take my well-deserved nap of the day. I came out a while later, feeling refreshed-ish, and saw Dave in the kitchen.
Dave: "I know you're feeling bad, but do you have to wear your 'crazy old lady' outfit?" He scanned me from the top of my mussed hair to the bottom of my fuzzy socks.
Me: "Wha?" I mean, seriously, I thought I'd pulled off a pretty cute look. Blue striped jammie bottoms, fuzzy white-ish socks (they were whiter the first day I wore them), a red long-sleeved shirt with some sort of graphics all over it that keeps me from wearing it out of the house, and my bed head hair. What's not to love? I went in the bedroom to take a gander of just what that guy must be missing.
So, with some regret and full knowledge that I was about to be slightly less comfy, I exchanged my jammie pants for jeans, traded my fuzzy socks for tennies, and I kept the red shirt...after all, I had no plans of going out for goodness sake. Two hair ties later and this on-the-mend chick had pig tails. And, ya know what? I actually felt a little better for the effort.
Please don't tell Dave he was right...I'll never hear the end of it.
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