The T-shirt situation

There are certain things that as a responsible adult you’re just supposed to be able to do.

Getting dressed properly is high on that list.

Regular readers of my blog will know that at times I’ve struggled with the wardrobe demands of looking after my son.

Which is why on days like today, when I have sole charge of dressing him, I take extra care.

I ensure I’ve got his shoes on the right feet. The trousers are not back to front. The jumper is not tucked into his underpants.

I’m so well organised today I even get his teeth brushed, his face washed and his hair brushed, all in time for school.

I drop him off and complete my morning rituals and chores in the village before returning home.

Satisfied.

At which point I notice I’m wearing my T-shirt inside out.

There are certain garments which you could probably get away with wearing inside out. Ones where the difference wouldn’t be obvious.

This isn’t one of them.

For a start there is large garish lettering on the front of the T-shirt. Wearing it in reverse reveals the message backwards, faded and with an abundance of hanging loose threads.

There’s also prominent stitching around the joints.

And just in case I was able to pass any of this off as a daring sartorial statement, there’s the two inch label flapping from the side like a thirsty pup’s tongue.

It’s blatantly obvious. Cringingly obvious.

So now I’m forced to mentally retrace my steps since I left the house.

We parked the car in the main drag and walked through masses of parents and kids to the school grounds.

I exchanged brief pleasantries with the principal and spoke with a few of the mummies as we dropped off the kids.

Then I went to the shop and bought a paper before retreating to my wee coffee shop where I ordered porridge.

I saw two people I know there and spoke momentarily to them before coming home.

Nobody said a word to me about the T-shirt.

There are two possible explanations. for this. The first is simply that nobody noticed. I find this plausible in the sense that I never notice what other people are wearing and I assume they’re probably not that bothered about my wardrobe.

The second is that at least some of them did notice but pretended not to. Putting it down to another of my eccentricities.

It probably didn’t help the overall look that I decided to wear tracksuit bottoms rather than regular trousers today.

It probably also wasn’t great that one of the parents I saw in the school ground was my GP.

So how did I do it?

Was it the inevitable result of my added determination to ensure that I dressed my son correctly?

Was it just down to my utter lack of self awareness and co-ordination?

God only knows.

Sometimes the mind can be responsible for unfathomable lapses which just defy any attempt at reason.

Like sometimes when I’m in the supermarket. I need to get milk. I know where the milk is. I see the milk. I grab the milk. Only to discover when I get home that I picked up a tin of prunes instead.

The best explanation I can offer is that when you have a crowded mind sometimes the most basic things can get pushed out.

It also reminds me that it’s worth giving a little bit of yourself to every task, no matter how menial it might seem.

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