Pyjamas

On Monday I shambled to work wearing gray Calvin Klein trousers and a gray Quiksilver shirt, and only realised late in the afternoon that I looked like I was wearing pyjamas. I might have felt all day like I had just got out of bed, but I hadn't realised that I looked like I had just got out of bed too.

Lucky, I suppose, that I wear pyjamas rather than a scuzzy old t-shirt and some smelly pants. Hypothetically speaking, that is.

Erm.

Anyway, having spent yesterday at home feeling that my brain was gradually getting wider without my skull changing to accomodate it, I forced myself to head to the office today.

Wearing the trousers from my dark blue suit and my dark blue Calvin Klein shirt.  I don't know why I've been stressing these designer names as if it meant anything important to me, and even if it had, that would be nothing against the stunning realisation that once again I looked like I was dressed for bed.

There's nothing wrong with wearing pyjamas. They're warm in winter, cool in summer, baggy enough for comfort without being too loose for propriety's sake, but they're not exactly office wear. And how much worse to be wearing clothes that are ostensibly smart, but end up making you look like Rip Van Winkle on an outing to the Big City?

There's nothing for it. I'm not going to spend three days this week looking like I've been wearing pyjamas. Tomorrow I'm going to wear clothes with contrasting colours, to prevent this sort of wardrobe mishap.

Yes. My white and red vertical striped trousers, and that nice shirt I've got with the little pictures of Babar The Elephant all over it. That'll show everyone that I can dress myself.