I can't find anything to wear.
Well, that's not entirely true. I have a ton of clothes. In fact, they are still packed from the long weekend and sitting in a bag at the end of my bed. My favourite jeans are dirty though and that causes me pause.
I am seriously sitting here and dreading walking out the door because I don't have the right outfit. OMG. What is wrong with me?
I'm contemplating wearing something so completely unpractical to work that I will get laughed at by the hobos that drink on the corner. I mean, not like a tutu and rainboots. That would be silly. But I mean, it's 30 degrees out and I'm contemplating a full length skirt, a sweater and flip flops. The last time I wore something like this I had to climb into a condemned building that had been on fire. It's probably not a good idea.
But I'm hormonal. Screw practicality. Friday night on a cheque night be damned. I'm dressing pretty.