dressing fail
There are the clothes I wear to face the world at work and at play, and then there are the clothes I wear when I’m at home. Home clothes don’t have to be stylish or appropriate or even fit right. They just have to be comfy. I’ve gathered a mish-mash of home wearing bits and pieces over the years - most are dorky and well loved, some have holes or tears, some are garishly bright or simply too daring to wear around other humans, and some just defy categorisation. At the end of a day, I can’t wait to shed my outside clothes and snuggle into the comforting eclecticism of a randomly chosen home clothes combo.
Yesterday was my first day back at work, and when I got home I slunk into a favourite old purple t-shirt (with a tiny moth hole in the region of my belly button), and a pair of ludicrously slinky silky black pants. I wasn’t feeling very well at all and my homey clothes acted like a comforting hug. I slobbed around for a while, feeling a bit sorry for myself, before deciding to take a pain killer and go to bed. Thanks to the tablet, I slept quickly and soundly and woke up feeling dopier than usual. I went through the morning motions and got ready for work, changing into a grey top and grabbing an even greyer jacket. I keep my shoes in a little storage wrack in the garage and so I just flung my feet into the nearest pair as I headed out the door.
I’d been driving for just over half an hour when I first noticed. It was a cold morning and at a set of traffic lights I rubbed the palms of my hands against my legs near my knees. It took a moment to register the ludicrously slinky silky texture of my home-wearing pants. After my morning shower, I’d just picked up my homey pants again and put them on. It was too late to turn back - in morning traffic I’d never make it to work again in time. So I drove the last ten minutes and then felt really self-conscious and awkward as I got out of the car and walked into work. It was only when I went to sit down at my desk that I happened to look down at my feet… and realised I was also wearing two different shoes.
Yesterday was my first day back at work, and when I got home I slunk into a favourite old purple t-shirt (with a tiny moth hole in the region of my belly button), and a pair of ludicrously slinky silky black pants. I wasn’t feeling very well at all and my homey clothes acted like a comforting hug. I slobbed around for a while, feeling a bit sorry for myself, before deciding to take a pain killer and go to bed. Thanks to the tablet, I slept quickly and soundly and woke up feeling dopier than usual. I went through the morning motions and got ready for work, changing into a grey top and grabbing an even greyer jacket. I keep my shoes in a little storage wrack in the garage and so I just flung my feet into the nearest pair as I headed out the door.
I’d been driving for just over half an hour when I first noticed. It was a cold morning and at a set of traffic lights I rubbed the palms of my hands against my legs near my knees. It took a moment to register the ludicrously slinky silky texture of my home-wearing pants. After my morning shower, I’d just picked up my homey pants again and put them on. It was too late to turn back - in morning traffic I’d never make it to work again in time. So I drove the last ten minutes and then felt really self-conscious and awkward as I got out of the car and walked into work. It was only when I went to sit down at my desk that I happened to look down at my feet… and realised I was also wearing two different shoes.