Why does it have to be the morning?

I’m really hating on the fact I have to prepare for my entire day in the morning.

Sigh. It really is a bummer.

This morning I got ready and went to work as usual. I’ve been trying to be smart and wear something tank topish under whatever I have on so that I can take my blouse off on the trip to / from work (it’s really hot in California, it really is. I can’t wear anything but long sleeves to work because of my ink — while corporate California may not mind my engagement wedding ring, I don’t know how much they would dig my stitches). So at least I’m trying to learn from my overall experience of living here. But there are, of course, layers of complexity (there always are with me).

So, I was all proud — managed to fit into something that looked good together. I grabbed a random pair of black pantyhose and shoved them on my legs (I hate pantyhose), and went in to wish Darren a farewell. . .

Mmmm snuggles.

Anyway. I get to work and I think it’s like the first time I have looked down at my legs at all. And it’s bad — the pantyhose I had on were SHREDDED. I hadn’t noticed because it was dark when I put them on, and somehow they got all twisted (pantyhose hate me back), and now I could easily see HUGE gaping hole.

So, on my lunch time, after being assigned a whole SLEW of work, I managed to find a pair that worked.

Why do I have to get dressed in the morning? Why, why why?

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