Happiness is a warm jacket

Yesterday, I washed my "good" jacket. I wore it out in the rain over the weekend while planting and predictably it got muddy / dirty / ew.

Also predictably, I did not notice this until I got to work Monday morning and hung it on the coat rack. Because nothing says, "Trust me, I'm a professional" like showing up to work in a jacket that looks like you ran behind the train all the way to work. Awesome.

I washed it first thing in the morning and hung it out on the clothesline to dry – but the weather chose to be a little cold and a lot humid and when I took it in last night, it was still very damp.

This morning, it was also very damp.

So even though it was supposed to be line dried, I tossed it into the dryer and gave it a twenty minute tumble on medium while the whirl of coffee and cocoa making, backpack inspections, "go and put on socks" and "where are your shoes?" and "wait, this form was due YESTERDAY?!" flew past.

Then I stepped out the door without my jacket. Because it was in the dryer instead of hanging on the hook behind the door and I really am that controlled by my routine.

Then I skittered back into the house because whoa nelly! I'm dressed for the 60-70 temps we're expecting later today – not the 40-something it was out there.

Then I stared accusingly at the hook behind the door because where is my jacket?

Then my brain went, "AHEM…do we remember what we did twenty minutes ago…?"

Then I got my jacket out of the dryer, groped at it and found it to be glory hallelujah dry, and put it on.

And then I just stood there for a moment purring because ohmygah did it ever feel goooooooood…mmmmmmmm….warm jacket….mmmmmmmmmmm…

And then I did my commute and got this far on Lillehammer II:



And then I thought the seven most dangerous words in the world: You know what ELSE would be fun…?

Making this same sweater four more times. In red and white, for the girls and me.

And then we could all go to family therapy! Wearing our matching sweaters!

Righteous!

(I do make them wear matching t-shirts when we go on "field trips" as a family – all of us wear the most vivid, glow-in-the-dark tie dye shirts you can imagine. It just isn't possible for them to get lost wearing those shirts. They can be seen from space. I can point at any one of the remaining Denizens and yelp, "He's wearing a shirt just like this one!", and someone will say, "Oh, yeah, I saw that kid, he was feeding the tigers popcorn…")