Okay, so I recently moved apartments and of course during that process my entire laundry rhythm and routine got thrown way off its flightplan. So as the days go by and my laziness shows its ugly face... I'm left with very few clothing options for my daily life.
This morning I am rifling through boxes trying to find something ANYTHING that resembles a shirt. I find one. It kinda looks familiar but the mood is definitely awkward between us. Do I know you?
I confidently throw my arms into this baby. Not bad so far. I bring the two sides together ... uh oh. We're about 4-5 inches off target. As I'm pulling, stretching, and clawing ... I can literally hear the fabric fibers screaming as if being run through a medieval torture device. I'm sorry, little buddies.
I'm now on my bed. Tossing and turning with every ounce of power I can muster. Finally, I get the buttons to hold. Well, most of them. One button buckles under the torque and shoots across the room smashing a priceless ming vase from Target.
With the aid of a portable oxygen machine, I manage to catch my breath and make it downstairs to catch my bus. By this point things are going okay. The humidity is allowing for some decent stretchability. The folks on the bus don't seem to notice.
When I get to work ... things start getting a little hairy. Wouldn't you know it I forget that we have some very important clients in the office today. I spend a good deal of my morning just rolling around the office from the safety of my desk chair. Making every attempt not to stand up and display my attire that now has the comfort-level of Saran Wrap.
The rest of my day goes smoothly. Until at the very end when my boss asks me to run something across the street to the bank. Ugh! It would be a trip to the bank ... where the tellers are all gorgeous and who most likely prefer dudes that don't appear to get their clothing from Babys R Us.
After some lamaze breathing outside the bank... I'm soon able to take in enough oxygen to enter and make my transaction. I soon realize that keeping your gut sucked in for any period over two minutes will automatically require the use of every single muscle in your body. I smile at the cute teller and hand her my deposit slips. She makes small talk but I can only manage to smile and nod occasionally as I feel my face turning purple. My abdomen is now shaking uncontrollably in a epileptic rage as it fights to contain years of chicken wings and kool-aid. "OH MY GOD, lady, please stop talking so I can leave" is all I'm thinking at this point. Okay. Good-bye. Yes you have a good afternoon too...
Ahhhhhhh. I'm out the door. Free at last. My guy falls back into place like a sack of potatoes. I pause for a cigarette. Check my pockets....
FUUUUUUUUUCK. She forgot my deposit receipt....
-Jonesy
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