I stood in my closet this morning staring at my shirts. What to wear to work today? I settled on my favorite white button up shirt. I mean, there’s nothing special about it, I’ve just had it for a long time, so it’s super soft and comfy.
Sure it’s starting to unravel in places, but if I just keep trimming the threads, no one will notice. Right? Yeah, it’s been washed one too many times and the fabric’s getting thin, but if I wear a nude bra, maybe no one will realize. Right?
I got dressed, drove to the office three buildings down, (who walks?), and went inside. I tossed my bag down on my desk and turned to talk to a coworker. I was right at the height of the story I was telling him, different voices and large arm motions and all, when
I bent my elbow, tearing a giant hole in my sleeve. Crap. Naturally, I tried to play it off, but you know I didn’t fool anyone.
So, I drove back home (seriously, no one walks) and changed shirts. Right?
I just grabbed a suit jacket to wear over the ripped shirt.
No need to waste a perfectly good shirt. Right?