After yesterday’s two penny rant about how my ability to dress myself like a grown man with a full time profession and other responsibilities was quickly declining in this age of group hermit-ing, you might have figured today’s foot coverings could be anything from a pair with Impressionist rodeo clowns to actual swim shoes. After all, it is Friday, and Fridays have typically been the day for the more silly of socks around here, even in more, uh, normal times.
In other words, despite my love for argyle, they are not often the play at week’s end.
For that matter, neither are my “fancy” black jeans (which you can just see a swatch of in the bottom right of the image above). I would very much like to tell you that I broke out the grown up stuff today because it’s, like, Good Friday or whatever. But, no. The fact is, I haven’t washed the jeans yet this week because being “healthy at home” is making me loathe the relentless cycles of doing laundry (and dealing with dirty dishes, for that matter) in ways I could never before have imagined. Just now, the thought of having to switch over One. More. Load. has me simultaneously considering having a good old fashioned fit of rage, aka going all Office Space on the washer, or curling into a fetal ball and sobbing uncontrollably at the sadistic nature of clean shirts.
Either way, I need to wash the jeans, but that just wasn’t happening today. Hence, the Friday argyle.
Here’s to someone else doing the laundry while you go have a great weekend!
Oh, and, uh, try not to set the place on fire?