Perhaps the ultimate in skiing faceplants. How did they get him (or her?) out?
Some days, just nothing seems to go right, and that has certainly been the case so far today with regard to clothes and the pretense of attempting to dress stylishly. To wit:
1) Already too late early this morning to take the time and head back upstairs for a different sports jacket or blazer, a brass button (the buttoning point button) came off my mid-blue blazer this morning as I rushed out the door. The first time this season I've worn that particular blazer too. Should've known right then that the stars were not aligned properly today. Sigh.
2) Mid-morning, during office hours to which students rarely come (unless you make them visit you by making it count as part of their grade), one of those tiny metal pins that keeps leather watch straps attached to the actual wristwatch broke on my Bulova watch. This is really maddening since it has not been three months since I had the pins and strap replaced at the jewler's. Argh!
3) While chekcing my appearance in the mensroom mirror late in the morning. I noticed what looks like powdered sugar residue in two highly visible places near the crotch of a pair of Luciano Barbera pants that I've worn maybe three times before today. Since the pants went to the dry-cleaner's after I found them in a thrift shop, and I never eat anything like powder sugar doughnuts when I am dressed nicely, these spots are vexing to say the least. WHAT are they from, HOW did they get there, and do I really want to know? Hopefully, no students or colleagues noticed, but it's unsettling to say the least. Grrrr. . .
4) A pick-up of several items at the dry-cleaner's on the way home revealed that, apparently, no special attention was given to removing a small spot of car door grease from a pair of gabardine dress pants when I dropped them last Friday although I pointed out the spot, and the clerk put some red tape next to it. Today, not only is the original spot in full evidence, but a second spot has materialized a few inches away. #$%&#*!
Hopefully, that's the last of it, but I think I'll ask my wife to avoid making any dishes with tomato sauce this weekend.
Faceplant -- In skiing and snowboarding, a kind of fall where your face is planted unceremoniously in the snow for all to see and chide you about later.
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