Have you ever had one of these days:
When you get dressed, you know your stuff doesn't match, and YOU JUST DON'T CARE??
This morning I was standing in the closet, looking through the clothes, deciding what to wear, when I just said, screw it, and grabbed whatever there was hanging there in front of me... here is what came out:
Gray T-shirt with a white silhouette of Barack Obama on it, a medium brown pair of pinestripe texture khakis and to top it off, my Chuck Taylors, which, in medium light, look gray, but in the sunlight, look like a drab olive green. And I just didn't care. I believe I saw ThatOneWife look at me out of the corner of her eye, as if to say, "Dude, WTF??"
I'm usually a well dressed individual, which you know if you remember my RANT about people showing up to nice restaurants in crappy jeans and a T-Shirt. I take pride in what I wear - most days, but every once in a while - I just couldn't care less, and I end up wearing something that looks totally stupid. That "I don't care" attitude often wears off by about 10 AM, and I feel like a moron for the rest of the day. We'll see if that happens today, or if my apathy continues on through the entire day. Note to self: Gray/Brown/Dark Olive = NOTAMATCH.
That person up there, by the way, is not me - it's just a random picture of a dude apparently named Robin, that I stole from Teh Innernets.
However, that Brings Me Round Again To Find, I'm Not The Man They Think I Am At Home.... oops, sorry, random Elton John Lyric crept in there...
What it "Brings Me Round Again" to, is ROBIN, or more correctly, ROBYN.
A few weeks ago we had the kids out skiing and while we were standing in the lift line, there was a "slightly" heavy female in line in front of us who was wearing those stretchy ski pants, as opposed to the bulky kind of ski pants. The kids got a kick out of this, and I proceeded to tell them the story of Robyn. Robyn was my secret 10th grade Total Crush. She was all sorts of hot, and was a very accomplished skier who skied on the school ski team. She had long brown hair, and fiery blue-gray eyes and a dark complexion. And she wore THOSE ski pants. Needless to say, I joined the ski team. For one reason and one reason only. So I could drool all over myself on a regular basis, with an excuse this time.
She won every race she entered and I was right there at the bottom, watching her and waiting for her to cross the finish line.
Those, people, were the days.