I wanted to start this post with the excuse that I woke up late today, but I actually woke up early, so I really, general stupidity is my only valid scapegoat. 

I couldn’t find any pants that matched the striped shirt I was wearing, and, as I already ironed the shirt and I do not iron, I refused to either a) change my shirt or b) iron any pants that could have worked since, you know, I already ironed that one item and that maxed out my ironing quota for the month.  Instead, I logically concluded that the only available option was to sort through dirty clothes hamper (side note: I think I hate the word hamper) for my favorite go-with-everything black, wide-leg pants. 

I found them, smelling a little like Wine Bar, but put them on anyway.  I’ll be working there tonight anyway, so hey, it’ll be like coming prepared.  And the wrinkles were minimal which meant I was proud of my problem-solving skills.   Ironing is for chumps.

And now, while sitting at my desk, I remembered why they were in the hamper dirty-clothes bucket.  I spilled food completely down the left leg.  oooh, so that’s why they smelled more than usual …  And, don’t worry, the stain is visible. Bonus.

But perfume of ponzu is delicious, no?

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