Can we just rewind and start over, like yesterday never happened?
- Like the Cavs didn't blow their shot to clinch it at home?
- Like Mindy Doo didn't get sent home on AI?
- Like I didn't wake up at 7:55 and yank on the first things I found? Apparently I slept through the alarm, and was forced to compose an ensemble of things that were easily grabbable as I stumbled from the bed to the door: white t-shirt, yellow polo, tan pants, anklet-length sport socks with blue trim, two-tone oxfords, and, once I got outside and realized how chilly it was, a navy hoodie with white trim that I had left in the car.
Cathy helpfully pointed out that it was my second "fashion victim" day that week: On Monday I couldn't find the other half of my pink sweater set and didn't feel like digging the black cardigan that goes with my green t-shirt out of my suitcase, so I wore the pink cardigan with the green shirt and looked, she said, like a life-size container of Maybelline Great Lash mascara.