Do Clothes Make The Man? Or Do They Just Make Him Crazy?
I haven’t showered and dressed yet, so I am wearing Friday underpants at the moment. Perhaps it’s further evidence of my Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, but I have certain pairs of boxer shorts that I choose from on Friday morning, in order to ensure that all of the white boxers will get washed in The Boyfriend’s first load of laundry on Saturday, regardless of my condition at the time. (Asleep, still drunk from last night, too busy alphabetizing my socks, etc.) Perhaps that’s not OCD, but during the week I mentally calculate how many potential Friday underpants I will have left while I dress in the morning, to ensure that I don’t accidentally end up in the Wrong Panties on Friday.
My favorite jeans survived the visit from my Aunt and Uncle. We were out at Pier 39 (I know, right?) after a tour of Alcatraz (I know, right?!) so we ate at the Hard Rock Cafe (I know! Right?!?) Unfortunately they sat us in a booth that had recently been refinished…my mother and I ended up with lines of red furniture polish on our pants, and my father had red-stained fingers for the rest of the day. At least they comped the meal for us. Three or four treatments with spray wash got them clean enough that you can’t tell unless you’re OCD like me.
I pulled my pinstriped suit out of the closet earlier this week to make sure it had been dry cleaned (it had) and to make sure it didn’t smell like dry cleaning fluid (it did.) I’m not sure that pinstripes aren’t already over by now, but I have always liked the look. Of course, I was debating for a couple of days whether I could get away with wearing a wide-striped shirt with it. I’d nearly talked myself into attempting it until someone on a PBS news show last night showed up in exactly that combination. It looked like we needed to adjust the horizontal hold on the TV. Time for plan B.
(Television sets don’t have horizontal hold on them anymore, do they? Damn, I’m old.)
I’m not sure that I’m going to want to wear a suit jacket in late afternoon in San Jose, but I’m also sure The Boyfriend doesn’t really want to drive down there and meet a bunch of people I knew in High School twenty years ago either, so maybe that will balance out.