I am a man that likes to be comfortable. That is my fashion statement.
I do not care who makes what when it comes to my clothes. My wife, thank Allah, handles all that. I just want to be comfortable. And for the most part, I don't much care what it looks like. So when you see me walking down the road in a tube top and hot pink golfing pants, please do not call the crazy wagon, I'm just rolling comfortable. I'm not a pedifile crusing down your street, there is no need for me to be rousted.
It is in this vein of thinking that led me to one of my greatest adult discoveries.
Each morning I roll out of bed, step on a stupid dog bone, cuss at myself for not avoiding that land mine yet again, and head to the shower. For my lady readers, that is where I glisten and contemplate.
Shave and brush the teeth next and head to the cats den, which is our closet. I pick out whatever clothes have been preapproved by my wife and get dressed for work. I put the opressive clothes on and head out. You would think that I would do some baby stuff here, but the wife takes care of all that for me in the morning. Otherwise, my daughter and I would just call in sick all day.
In the car I have a 45 minute commute. Think of this, 45 minutes stuck in a metal box surrounded by those that I trust about as much as sludge. And I'm stuck in work clothes, which for me means a standard issued govermental approved collared shirt and khaki pants. 45 minutes both ways. 1 1/2 hours a day, 7 1/2 hours a week, and a full 30 hours a month. Then it hit me, this is primo comfort time that we are missing.
Why make myself even more uncomfortable than I have to be? Why give up that 30 hours? I'm driving in my work clothes, which can't match jeans and a T-shirt, not even close when it comes to comfort.
Being that I am a very enterprising young man, I came up with a plan. I love plans. Plans are my favorite. I am the king planner. I am planning my next sentance right now, ahhh.
I decided that I would start wearing my sandels to drive in. Yes, it is everything that you thought it would be.
My toes are free to move. No oppressive work shoes on the drive thank you. Sometimes, just for fun, I turn on the A/C to blow on my feet. It is greatness. It is the small good thing in life that makes the rest not seem so bad. It's like watching that jackass that just cut you off get a flat tire. Suck it Mr. Johnny Take Advantage.
But nothing that is good lasts forever.
I was halfway to work, enjoying the freedom that I have and wondering if my next step would be to drive in my PJ bottoms when I looked at my feet. Still great. Then I looked at the seat next to me, where I normally have my work shoes. They were not there. The socks where not there. There was nothing there but a melted kit-kat bar. Yes, I ate it later.
Crapola, I had forgotten my real shoes. This is not good. I forget so many things in the morning--cell phone, wallet, wedding ring, baby, general knowledge that I am actually married with a kid and one on the way.
Now I had forgetton my shoes. If I turn around now, I'll have to fight traffic all the way back and be massively late for work. I silently considered peeing myself and there for have a real excuse other than my own stupidity for going back. What boss can't believe that excuse? But then I realized it was stupid to pee myself. I should pour water on my pants and then say I peed myself. Again, I love plans. I am diabolical.
Screw it, I'm going to work and we'll make due. Will anyone notice my shoes?
Think about it, you are behind a desk most of the day. I also have the luxary of having my own office. I am not a cube jockey like so many of you out there. And yes, this is also as great as you think it is.
I get to work and take the stairs. There is no more mindless chatter than with people you don't know on the elevator. Sure, I could use the exercise. Thanks Mom, thanks for calling me fat.
Like a Ninja, I sneak into my office and close the door. Victory is mine. Until I decided that when I normally sit in my office I put my feet up on my desk. Should someone walk in, I'm screwed. Ok, can't do that today and we'll just complain about it later.
From here on out, my day is filled with the rush of canceling meetings, demanding that I only be contacted via Email, and in general plotting my invisable work day. I can be quite creative when I have to be.
Things are going well and I think that I am going to get away with this. Shit, I should wear sandels everyday. Am I really that much of an un-important person that I never need to see anyone through out my work day? Apparently not.
A co-worker comes in and informs me that the "Big Boss" is in town. If she looks under my desk I'm going to kick her and blame Touretts Syndrome. He's new to his position and hasn't met the rest of the team before. Hello Karma, this is Hossman, and I'm ready to be screwed.
I find myself silently praying that the meeting he is in runs long. I find myself actually wishing for a bad boss that doesn't want to have anything to do with the little people. I find myself getting a cup of water to enact the peed pants routine. I should be a grifter.
Luck is on my side today as he doesn't come around. I sneak out through the stairs again at 4:30, just a tad early but I have a family to provide for, I need the job. When I get to my car, relief swells over me. Victory once again is mine.
I keep the cup of water just incase my wife asks me to mow the yard. No reason to abandon a good plan.