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Emergency shirt
I was convinced that the blood drive was tomorrow. It is in fact today.
My blouse's sleeves don't roll up.
At all, really. I can't get the cuff above my elbow. There are no buttons.
Emergency lunch trip to Filene's Basement. I've acquired a black cowl-necked sweater, with very stretchy sleeves, that I think I can wear again, for the low low price of $15. Coworkers have agreed that it is in fact cute and wearable, and that is not a product of my shopping-panic.
Win!
(Yes, I suppose I could have skipped the blood drive, but this is the lamest excuse in the world. "I'm sorry, small child dying of cancer, you can't have any clean blood because I was a dumbass and wore the wrong shirt.")
My blouse's sleeves don't roll up.
At all, really. I can't get the cuff above my elbow. There are no buttons.
Emergency lunch trip to Filene's Basement. I've acquired a black cowl-necked sweater, with very stretchy sleeves, that I think I can wear again, for the low low price of $15. Coworkers have agreed that it is in fact cute and wearable, and that is not a product of my shopping-panic.
Win!
(Yes, I suppose I could have skipped the blood drive, but this is the lamest excuse in the world. "I'm sorry, small child dying of cancer, you can't have any clean blood because I was a dumbass and wore the wrong shirt.")
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