I'm fairly certain that ninety-three percent of my closet's contents are now strewn across different surfaces in my apartment. Some mornings are a pleasant ritual of getting ready for my day while others are a disastrous battle zone. After seventeen wardrobe changes, I finally decided on an outfit that I had deemed appropriate for work.
(read: did not make me look too casual and/or like a ho)
Coincidentally, I picked the first outfit I tried on...but all was good, see, as I had managed to crawl out of combat alive.
And then I went to brush my teeth.
And my toothpaste tube was running low.
So I had to squeeze it extra aggressively.
And then blue sparkly goo shot straight onto my chest.
Did I mention that my shirt was white silk?
I'll let you construe my sentiment...
until next time,