Rough Start

There's this scene in my very favorite movie, Some Like It Hot, where we find Tony Curtis, in the effort to keep up the illusion that he's a female sax player while also seducing Marilyn Monroe as a millionaire with a yacht, in the bathtub with his sax-player wig on. When Marilyn departs, he stands up from the bathwater, and we discover that he's still wearing his millionaire's yachting suit, as he didn't have time upon returning from their date to fully change before she came in and he had to be Josephine.

"And WHERE did you get that accent? Nobody talks like that!"

Yeah. That's how I feel right now; like I got in the bathtub wearing my work clothes. I just got caught in one of DC's famous summer storms, and by "storm," I clearly mean "four horsemen of the apocalypse." (Which, of course, started as soon as I got out of the car to walk to the metro, and slowed down right as I approached my office building. Stellar.)

I feel that this is an ominous start to the day. Optimists might say that there's nowhere else for this day to go but up, but find me a woman who's still an optimist after spending nine hours in an over-air-conditioned cubicle with soaking wet pants that obviously won't dry because she's still in them*, and I'll show you a filthy, filthy liar.

So there's that. Happy Thursday.

*I contemplated going into the ladies room, taking off my pants, and wringing them out, but I 86ed that plan when I realized there was a solid chance I wouldn't be able to shimmy back into the still-damp pants afterwards. Which, let's face it... would be worse.