Twice

For two days in a row I have worn clothes that don’t match.

Outside.

In front of other humans.

For my Monday ensemble, I actually bought the items together and while doing so commented to myself that while a navy pair of pants would be good for my wardrobe and a navy blouse would be good for my wardrobe, these particular blue items definitely could not be worn together.

Monday morning, while standing in front of my closet, bleary eyed and chugging iced tea, I decided, apropos of nothing, that all blues go together. I decided that my mother had once told me so. I decided that blue could do no wrong.

Wrong.

This morning, I put on a brown-based prarie skirt and then topped it with a raging coral sweater. The skirt had creams and oranges and greens in it. No corals. I stood in front of my mirror scrutinizing my ensemble, decided it worked, and left. When I arrived at the dry cleaners and saw myself in natural light I realized immediately that I was mistaken. Very mistaken. I ripped the sweater from my shoulders, leaving me wearing this sophisticated cream shell along with the teen-hip skirt. Which ripped along the bottom an hour later (I am not making this up).

Tomorrow? Tomorrow I am going to grind free-trade coffee beans, make coffee with them, top it with hazelnut cream and drink two full mugs before I go near my closet.