Old School

It was going to be an easy day. Black sweater, gray skirt, new black pinstriped pumps with the ankle strap, and black pantyhose. Needed to get in quick and get these financials on file.

Until I turned and saw the giant snag in the black pantyhose.

There are things in life I organize, and things I don't. Like my panty drawer. No folding, no nothing . . . just wash them, throw them in, pull them out when you need them.

The pantyhose drawer is similar. But its scary. Legs intertwined, 27 shades of black or tan . . . and sometimes I'm too lazy to notice when there are holes, so many get put back when they should be put in the circular file.

So when I noticed the snag in the pair I was wearing, I went to the drawer to find a new black pair. But the first pair had a hole. So did the second. Third pair wasn't black - it was dark navy. Next pair were textured tights - didn't want tights - wanted pantyhose. Textured tights with holes. Black maternity pantyhose (maternity?).

I started to get frustrated, and then my email inbox pinged again. Which made me more frustrated. I needed to get to work and couldn't find a damn pair of black pantyhose.

And then a solution snaked out.

I'm going old school today, people. Stockings. You heard me. Stockings. Under the corporate exterior, we're going old school stockings.

I have a feeling someone is going to get their ass kicked today.

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife