to my utter horror, I realize that I’ve grabbed (and donned!) a dirty shirt. ack! I smell, at least up close and personal, like I don’t wash my clothes. *thankfully*, I’m naturally not a sweaty person – this could be a much more urgent situation. this is what happens when you clean like a madwoman and throw clothes around as you rearrange your closet – some of them are bound to get mixed up. as it is, I only have a musky t-shirt smell instead of that rancid b.o. smell. as anal as I am about hygeine (npi), it’s quite the drama for me to sit here in a smelly shirt all day.

other than the smell, the day is passing rather uneventfully. no stress. it’s nice. aight, back to work. in my smelly shirt.