The Changing of the Clothes

Tuesday is my day off from school this week, which gives me a chance to get up a little bit later, and decide what I want to wear for the day on the same day as I iron it, whereas normally I don’t have time to do that, and so have to guess the weather (because I think weather forecasts I wrong 90% of the time) and thus the appropriate clothes in advance. So you’d think today would work to my advantage.

It hasn’t gone that way. It looked a bit chilly this morning, so I thought, “what an excellent opportunity to wear the new long-sleeved t-shirt I bought three weeks ago, you know, the one the weather hasn’t let you wear so far!”. I agreed with this excellent analysis from my brain, and so ironed it beautifully, as always. To go with that, I chose a pair of jeans that are some years old, and have always been a little bit too big on me. But I like them, and they have been loyal to me. It would be a delightful combination of old jeans with new t-shirt. Very vintage look.

Upon getting out the bath, I put on my new clothes: and noticed there was a problem. The brand new t-shirt is a very deep red. You can see it will fade away with several washes. But not at the moment. It is very very red. It clashed most badly with my aging jeans, which were now faded in parts that they were very light blue. This combination of deep red with light blue did not work at all, as you can see in the following table:

Very red t-shirt
Light blue jeans

Something had to be done about it. This development was very concerning to me, as I deliberately only buy clothes that will work with everything else in my modest wardrobe. This makes choosing what to wear a very simple task, which is essential for any male. Now I have an extra factor to consider.

So I found my new pair of navy blue jeans. This combination worked fine – two deep colours together – so I ironed them and put them on instead. A good match.

I sat down at my computer and realised how warm it was. There was something not quite right about this long-sleeved t-shirt. All my other long-sleeves are very loose, and allow much air circulation. This brand new one didn’t. The sleeves were tight around my arm, and the sun seemed to have come out while I wasn’t paying attention. So, the long-sleeved red had to come off. I ironed my white Home Star Runner t-shirt, possibly the coolest (in both senses) item of clothing in my wardrobe. This was a success too, if a little optimistic.

With the new t-shirt, I decided I might as well put my old jeans back on. I knew they worked together as I’d worn that combination before. This would let me save my new jeans for the red t-shirt when the weather allows it.

Then I decided there was still a problem. My jeans… my loyal jeans… were decidedly crap. I don’t know how this happened, but I suddenly realised that they were far too loose on me. They always have been slightly loose, but now they are just wrong. They are too old; they’ve worn away too much. Perhaps I’m becoming conservative in my old age. To cap it all it was nowhere near warm enough to allow the white t-shirt to be worn. So it was all change. I decided to change the t-shirt, as maybe it was that that was making me look really thin in my old jeans.

It was going to have to be a long-sleeve t-shirt to solve the dilemma. I dug out an older long-sleeve, ironed that, and put it on. Another success. Until I decided once and for all to put the old jeans out to pasture. They are officially no good any more. Maybe I’ve lost weight recently, despite having hardly any to begin with. Or maybe I’ve been wearing crap jeans for years and have only just noticed. That is more likely.

So the new jeans came back out. Perfect. And now I’m £25 down as I’ve just bought a new pair of jeans to replace the old-old ones.

I suppose it’s a minor reward for the bizarre and utterly ridiculous injury I suffered this morning. When putting the toilet seat down (as a courtesy to the ladies of the house, because I’m such a gent), the top part of the seat, the cover, decided to stick to the seat-proper. As I put the down the seat, this makes the weight of it much heavier than my brain anticipated, and so the right muscle resistance was not used. The seat comes crashing down, trapping my thumb inbetween the two lids as it hits the bottom. The result: bleeding and a whacking great bruise at the base of my thumb, and me shouting “bollocks” repeatedly.

I’ll never put the seat down again. Unless it’s necessary. Which it is.

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