Yesterday, I am at home getting ready for work. I decided to wear a cashmere sweater and Hubby gives me his usual big back-rubbing hug to send me on my way, but the cashmere turned into a horrible static cling mess. Hubby, no rubbing of the cashmere!
I felt like that super cheap plastic wrap. Certainly not Saran Wrap, but the kind that requires a chisel and industrial tweezers to pull off the cardboard roll. Even then it sticks under your finger nails and scissors won’t even cut the stuff. You all know what I mean.
Anyway, I end up coating myself in a light fog of hairspray hoping to lessen the New and Improved Space Bag effect of my outfit. (BTW, if anyone has any better cures for static cling, please share) Hubby says it is good to know that if I come home someday a giant static cling mess, then obviously someone has rubbed me the wrong way.
This is foreshadowing at its best people…
Yesterday I had one of those days at work. You know, the kind of day where you and your employer just are not on the same page. The kind of day when all you can think about are the 50 ways to dismember your boss and the ideal hiding spot for each and every body part. It started from the moment he walked in the door, he just rubbed me entirely the wrong way.
And I busted up laughing. Life is good.