“Drew, just wait. I’m not doing one more thing until I change outa these clothes.”

It was Tuesday at 8pm and I’d been on the go since 7 that morning. Tuesdays are my busy days and this one had been particularly stupid.
You see, I haven’t been able to open the back gate of my Durango for some time now, so I took it to the Chrysler dealership in the morning on my way to work. I asked them to fix that for me. And replace the windshield wiper reservoir… and adjust the back seats… and check the key fobs…
And to have it ready by 3 pm.

At 1:30 I got a call, advising me that many many many other things were drastically wrong and needed immediate attention or else the sky would fall in. Total cost for peace of mind regarding my transportation: priceless.
Or $1245. plus tax.
“You know, those other unexpected items are going to have to wait. All I really need looked after today is the rear door.”
“Sure, no problem. Do you want to reschedule another appointment for the other things?”
“Uhhh. No.”
“I would really recommend you…”
“Not today thanks. And, just to remind you – I’ll need my truck ready by 3.”
“OK. See you then.”

I got a co-worker to drop me off at the dealership at 3.
My truck was parked right outside the door, kind of almost exactly where I left it 6 hours earlier.
“Hi, my name is Jane. I’m here to pick up my truck.”

Do you want the long version or short version of my sad truck story?
Ah, crap. I’ll just cut to the chase…
I ended up renting a mini van (can you say soccer mom?) and picked my kids up one hour late.
Which barely gave me enough time to throw in a load of laundry and stack the dishwasher before getting Max to his guitar lesson. While he plucked and strummed, I zipped off to get a few bags of groceries.
By the time we got home it was after 7 and we still hadn’t had supper. Clint barbequed while I made the rest of the meal, then I had to drive him to youth and take Max and Drew down to the office supply store to buy presentation supplies for Max’s big mouldy science fair display.

Which brings me to my reply to Drew’s request that I sit at the table and help him study for an upcoming test; “Just wait. I’m not doing one more thing til I change out of my work clothes.”

He looks me over. “Oh? Do they have Casual Tuesday now?”
“What are you talking about?”
He raises an eyebrow. “You wore that to work?”
“Yeah. What’s wrong with this?”
“Pretty cas don’t ya think?”

He’s 10.
He has opinions on what constitutes appropriate “business-casual” and “casual-Friday” wear.
“What did your boss say when you showed up for work dressed like that?”

Sigh.

I gave birth to the next generation's "Mr. Blackwell". Beware. You do not want to be on his worst dressed list.

I thought I looked OK. I guess maybe the shirt may have been relaxed looking – but hey, it was new. And new is sometimes just as good as semi-formal, no?
Dumb kid. Has me second guessing my clothing choices.

My probationary period at Arrow ends on February 15. I will be reviewed.
Hope they don’t say anything about my wardrobe.