We are not proactive about laundry in our house. Well, really, we aren't proactive about cleaning in general. It typically has to get to a state where I start having nightmares about it, and then I'll spend a few hours angrily scrubbing things down.
So anyway, the other day BK ran out of black shirts, which is sort of a first. For those who don't know, BK's normal uniform is a black T-shirt and blue jeans. He's one of these lucky engineers who gets to dress casually for work, and believe it or not, he's actually better dressed than many of the dudes I've seen roaming his office. Anyway, he does not deviate from his standard uniform except on special occassions, when he'll wear The Suit. For in between occassions he's purchased khaki-type pants and will wear a black polo instead of a black T.
So when BK ran out of black T-shirts, he was forced to wear a bright blue T-shirt to work. When I saw him later that day wearing bright blue, it struck me as so funny that I made fun of him for it for about two hours. I asked him if he felt a little off kilter wearing such a bright color, and he said something to the effect of: "I feel like a goddamn blueberry."
We did laundry that evening.
What made me think of that is that today I am really, really bloated. Yesterday I ate probably the equivalent number of carbs that Michael Phelps eats on any given day (his typical breakfast includes something like an omelet, two breakfast sandwiches, a stack of pancakes and four waffles) and my stomach is having some major pooch action. I poured myself into my work pants and scrounged for a shirt that wasn't going to hug my belly. I settled on a bright blue three-quarter sleeve number. As I've been waddling around the office all morning I couldn't help but think of Violet Beauregard in "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory," and hear the Oompa Loompas chiding me.
I feel like a goddamn blueberry!