January 11th, 2018

 Here is something you may not know about me.  Once I'm dressed for the day I'm done.  I do not want to change clothes again.  Which is in direct conflict with another thing about me, I have a "thing" about being dressed appropriately for whatever the current occasion.  Which means that sometimes, I do have to change clothes. I do not go hiking in party clothes.  I do not do yard work in the same clothes that I wear teaching.    I do not go out to dinner in the same kind of clothes that I wear scrubbing the floor and cleaning grout. Just by way of example

​Despite what you think, this desire to not change clothes, is actually not due to laziness.  It's more a question of what to do with the clothes I have just taken off.  They aren't dirty yet.  But they aren't clean either.  They are some weird transitional stage in between and I honestly don't know what to do with them.  Do I just hang them back in the closet in "general population" thus tainting the other cleaner clothes?  Do I create some new section of my already crazy closet organization system? Do I wash clothes that aren't dirty?  I know, it's a weird thing to fuss about and yet I do.

​This information is the back story to what happened yesterday.  When I woke up Wednesday morning, Tim was already up and in the shower.  I staggered around the house as I usually do first thing in the morning, bumping into walls, my hair going in a dozen different directions wearing disreputable looking mismatched pj's.  When I say disreputable, I don't mean that they came from Fredericks of Hollywood. I mean the pajama shorts are faded, sleep-rumpled and there may or may not be a hole or two around the elastic waistband.  The shorts at one time were red with what I think is supposed to be a blue and white flower here and there.  The tee-shirt I wore with it was tan with a pink flowered thing.  I wore them together because I do not have matching anything to go with either.

​Anyway, By the time I got to the window over the kitchen sink to peek out at the day, my eyes were focused and therefore I could see that the great outdoors was thick with a glorious fog.  I got excited!  It doesn't happen very often here and I've been wanting to take more fog photographs.  When Tim finally emerged from his shower I ran into the bathroom to brush my teeth and ran back out to throw on anything that remotely looked like clothing.

​When I told Tim (who was wondering about my uncharacteristic morning haste) about my intentions, he offered to drop me off wherever I wanted on his way to pick up his once a week treat of Dunkin Donuts coffee.  He goes for the coffee but if a sausage and egg sandwich happens to find it's way into the sack, he wont' turn it down...teehee.  I nearly jumped for joy at the offer.  The fog never lasts long.  As soon as the sun comes out it burns off so speed is key here.

​But now I have another quandary.  I'm not clean yet, I haven't showered and I cannot take the time just now if I want those photos.  I don't like putting clean clothes on a dirty body.  But I also don't like putting on dirty clothes. Dang.  After a moments hesitation, I grabbed a pair of yoga pants that I "hemmed" by cutting off the excess length (a little unevenly as it turns out) and therefore rarely wear in public and an old teeshirt.  I shoved my feet into my loafer/sneakers (I don't know what they are actually called.  They are like sneakers but there are no laces to tie?) and flew out the door.  Once in the car, I realized that I was chilly and grabbed Tim's sweatjacket which is miles to big for me.  I finger combed my hair as he drove to the jetty.

​In short, I looked like I live in a dumpster.  But of course at that moment the thought didn't even cross my mind.   As he drove, I was looking out the car window seeing things I wanted to capture and making mental notes.  He dropped me off where I wished and went on his merry way.  And I walked back, taking photos here and there never once giving a thought to how I looked or wondering what anyone passing by thought.  Of course, in retrospect, I understand the looks on people's faces as they biked by. Heh.  It was all worth it to me though. I got some great shots.  See if you agree:

Once I got all the photos I wanted I was glad to get home and shower.  Now, while those yoga pants and that tee shirt weren't actually dirty, I proclaimed them dirty enough to wash because I personally had not yet showered when I put them on.  No question there.  Once I was nice and clean, I dressed for the day.  A pair of black shorts and  cute little black and white striped top that happens to have a sparkly design on it.  I'm ready for my day.

​I wore it for about an hour and then I got a text from my sister inviting me to go hiking with her.  Heck yeah!  But wait a minute, I'm dressed for the day and in clothes far too nice to go hiking (we tend to get dirty).  Now I have to change clothes AGAIN and I've only been up for about three hours!  Sigh.  I changed.  I put on old denim shorts that have seen better days but have no holes yet and an old Marine Corps tee shirt that I purloined from Tim's side of the closet and my sneakers. Ready to hike.  But, now I have perfectly good shorts and a shirt that while not dirty, are also not pristinely clean.  What to do, what to do?  ​I ended up kind of creating a new area of my closet for these sorts of situations.  And then I went hiking.  Took some more decent photographs and had a heck of a good time as I always do when Joy and I hang out together:

Once back home, I flatly refused to change clothes again.  I did change shoes however and of course washed up a bit before going about my housey chores. Though in retrospect, I should have probably put the black shorts and striped shirt back on. By the end of the day I think I could have justified washing them. 

Oh well, live and learn.  

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