I always considered myself a laundry-savvy kind of guy. That is, I know the difference between the settings on the washing machine. I only ever use one, but I know which one it is. Admittedly, as a cubicle dweller, I’m better suited to cleaning a hard drive than cleaning clothes, but I get by.
Due to technical difficulties, my jeans weren’t entirely dry this morning and they were the only clean pair. No problem, I thought to myself, I’ll just put them on and they’ll — I’m embarrassed to admit this — get dry as I wear them. Most people will recognize this as a Stupid Guy Moment.
If you’ve ever tried this, you know it doesn’t work. Not only do you end up wearing sticky, damp jeans for hours, but on a crisp October morning such as today they also cause another more subtle form of embarrassment.
In the chilly air, the damp cotton was warmed by my legs and began to steam gently. Little wisps of fog, touched by the golden glow of the rising sun, curled around my legs and evaporated in the gentle air currents. I was the only employee leaving a vapour trail behind me as I strode up to my building.
And I remembered another fine day back when I was about thirteen, when I did exactly the same thing before going to school.
I will never learn, will I?
Hmm. I forgot to iron my shirt this morning. Oh well. The wrinkles will disappear after a while.