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senoritafishI admit I'm not a morning person. And I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, because John went to Carson to visit with his father, and I was halfway waiting up for him; although when I realized it was 3 am I gave up (he finally came home about 4:30). And the mechanic called and said we could finally pick up the Trooper, so John decided we had to do it right then, because my father needs his car for a doctor appointment today...
I got Angus and Gareth ready for school, but wasn't quite ready for work myself, so I threw a clean but somewhat wrinkled shirt into the drier with some damp clothes, so it would be relatively wrinkle-free by the time we returned from the mechanic. When we got back, I pulled it out of the drier, put it on, grabbed some things for lunch and a cuppa, and headed off to work.
Now this is a relatively loud rather Hawaiian-ish shirt that frankly, I swiped from John. It doesn't really fit him anymore, and I love it because it's made out of rayon, with swathes of turquoise and fuschia over a greeny-brown background, and plants and fish printed on it in black in a rather abstract pattern. The fish look like little flounders. It's long and if I wear it untucked, drapes down past stomach and butt, covering a multitude of evils.
So I come back to my desk after lunch, get my stuff together to run some reports, glance down at myself, and suddenly notice a BIG PURPLE SPLOTCH on the pocket covering my left boob. Gasping in horror, I pull the shirt away from my body and find a series of purple splotches all across the left side of my chest, from the armpit to the buttonholes.
Crayon. This shirt has already been through the dryer twice. Dammit. I love this shirt.
Not to mention that I've been standing and talking to at least 10 people for at least several minutes each this morning, including at least 45 minutes eating lunch with 5 of them,and NOBODY NOTICED THIS? Nobody could say, "Um, Leeanne, you might want to check out your shirt..." Well, I can understand why the men wouldn't, but you'd think the women... I don't believe I spent the entire morning with my arms crossed.
Honestly.
Thank god, it's a conference call I have to be in in about half an hour, and not a meeting.
Purple crayon. GRRRRR!
My own fault. I should have shaken out the laundry better.
*attempting to make myself small and hide in my cube for the rest of the day*
I got Angus and Gareth ready for school, but wasn't quite ready for work myself, so I threw a clean but somewhat wrinkled shirt into the drier with some damp clothes, so it would be relatively wrinkle-free by the time we returned from the mechanic. When we got back, I pulled it out of the drier, put it on, grabbed some things for lunch and a cuppa, and headed off to work.
Now this is a relatively loud rather Hawaiian-ish shirt that frankly, I swiped from John. It doesn't really fit him anymore, and I love it because it's made out of rayon, with swathes of turquoise and fuschia over a greeny-brown background, and plants and fish printed on it in black in a rather abstract pattern. The fish look like little flounders. It's long and if I wear it untucked, drapes down past stomach and butt, covering a multitude of evils.
So I come back to my desk after lunch, get my stuff together to run some reports, glance down at myself, and suddenly notice a BIG PURPLE SPLOTCH on the pocket covering my left boob. Gasping in horror, I pull the shirt away from my body and find a series of purple splotches all across the left side of my chest, from the armpit to the buttonholes.
Crayon. This shirt has already been through the dryer twice. Dammit. I love this shirt.
Not to mention that I've been standing and talking to at least 10 people for at least several minutes each this morning, including at least 45 minutes eating lunch with 5 of them,and NOBODY NOTICED THIS? Nobody could say, "Um, Leeanne, you might want to check out your shirt..." Well, I can understand why the men wouldn't, but you'd think the women... I don't believe I spent the entire morning with my arms crossed.
Honestly.
Thank god, it's a conference call I have to be in in about half an hour, and not a meeting.
Purple crayon. GRRRRR!
My own fault. I should have shaken out the laundry better.
*attempting to make myself small and hide in my cube for the rest of the day*
