Moving violation
I have this guiding theory that before 7am, the early hour can be used as an excuse for just about any crime in personal appearance. It's a need-based theory, and it gives me license to be seen in and around my neighborhood wearing insane clothing combinations and just generally looking like something the cat dragged in. (FYI, this theory only backfired once when we ran out of gas at 5:50am and I had to walk to the gas station wearing reindeer jammie pants, red wool shoes, and a pumpkin hat.) Case in point: this morning.
My alarm went off at 5:15am and I dragged my ass out of bed at 5:30am. I didn't brush my teeth, comb my hair, or wash my face; hell no! I know my role in the morning, and Part 1 is Maker of The Coffee (Part 2 = Chauffeur). So I made a pot of Ethiopia Sidamo (perfect pairing: lemon danish; actual pairing: Diet Coke) and went out to warm up the car. I paused for a second by the door, realizing that my coat was in the washer thanks to yesterday's puke-o-rama and that I had shunned PJ pants last night in favor of men's long johns. "Whatever," I thought. "It's early. If anyone sees me, they'll think I'm a runner."
So I went on with my business, starting the car and doing some laundry while Petunia got ready for work. Leaving for the commuter rail, I realized that my chauffeur uniform of the day consisted of the following: jadeite green fleece v-neck, olive green men's long john pants, white and red sparkle socks, and pink Crocs. Also hair in insane ponytail/rat's nest hybrid. Also gritty, puffy eyes and beginnings of another cough. "Does this coat cover my crotch pocket?" I asked Petunia. "Mostly," she answered, so I added a bright orange raincoat to the mix.
I am an embarrassment to everyone I love, but I have to give myself kudos for moxie.
My alarm went off at 5:15am and I dragged my ass out of bed at 5:30am. I didn't brush my teeth, comb my hair, or wash my face; hell no! I know my role in the morning, and Part 1 is Maker of The Coffee (Part 2 = Chauffeur). So I made a pot of Ethiopia Sidamo (perfect pairing: lemon danish; actual pairing: Diet Coke) and went out to warm up the car. I paused for a second by the door, realizing that my coat was in the washer thanks to yesterday's puke-o-rama and that I had shunned PJ pants last night in favor of men's long johns. "Whatever," I thought. "It's early. If anyone sees me, they'll think I'm a runner."
So I went on with my business, starting the car and doing some laundry while Petunia got ready for work. Leaving for the commuter rail, I realized that my chauffeur uniform of the day consisted of the following: jadeite green fleece v-neck, olive green men's long john pants, white and red sparkle socks, and pink Crocs. Also hair in insane ponytail/rat's nest hybrid. Also gritty, puffy eyes and beginnings of another cough. "Does this coat cover my crotch pocket?" I asked Petunia. "Mostly," she answered, so I added a bright orange raincoat to the mix.
I am an embarrassment to everyone I love, but I have to give myself kudos for moxie.
posted by Clementine at 6:17 AM
3 Comments:
Baby,
I think you looked beautiful this morning and every morning.
I love the crazy outfits. Also, somehow your crazy outfits always sound cooler than what mine turn out to be when, for instance, the dog has to go out at 5am. I'm usually just wearing pajama pants and a jacket. No pumpkin hats, no long johns. SIGH.
Jane, my neighbors would thank me if I went outside in pajama pants and a jacket. I'd receive thank-you cards from them if I'd run a brush through my hair before stepping off the front porch.
At least we're in winter when the insanity gets toned down by a big ugly coat. In the summer I chauffeur Petunia and pick up dog poop in the yard while wearing only orange boxers with giant yellow bananas on them and a torn WOZQ shirt I got from your INFP sister nearly 10 years ago. Hey, sexy lady! (It's a wonder I stay married, isn't it?)
PS--Please note that Petunia was looking at me from the blurry part of her new bifocals.
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