Today at work, I dropped a red sauce-covered noodle straight down my shirt. If someone looked at me right after it happened, they wouldn’t have known, unless they looked at my face and thought, “That’s the look of someone who just realized she has a noodle floating around inside her clothing.”
I took a glance around, waited for someone to walk past, and then opened up the chamber. There it was, sitting between my white tank top and similarly light-colored bra, tainting the fabric with a red-orange stain. Fishing the noodle out only took a couple seconds, but then I was left with the threat of permanent stains.
Why don’t I keep a Tide-To-Go pen on me, damn it?
What was I to do? After spending the rest of my lunch hopelessly swabbing the stain with water, I began to mourn the loss of a good tank top. The bra was salvaged, only barely grazed by the noodle and it’s saucy signature. By the time I got home to really wash the shirt though, all hope would be lost. The laundry detergent would try it’s best to remove the now faded-orange remnants of a delicious lunch, but would sadly report afterwards that the shirt would have to be resigned, not even an option for donation with an obvious tint to the spot right in the middle of it.
Why am I retelling this tragic but inconsequential story? Because it is further evidence that I should be able to work from home. My job is costing me shirts now, among other things. Never mind my lack of coordination; that can’t be helped.