I’m living the American Dream.
It all started last week when I decided to start packing my lunch. The idea seemed foolproof. I’ll save at least $200 a month by packing my own lunch!
It was great. I packed little sandwiches, salads, and fruit. I’ll eat healthier! This is great.
Then, it all took a turn for the worst. I packed soup. Red beet soup, made by my lovely Russian neighbour, to be exact. She’s such a sweet lady who secretly thinks I’m anorexic because I’m really slim.
After warming it up, I took my lunch over to my coworker’s office, as I did the day before and as I’ll do the day after. I carefully set it on her table as I prepared to sit down and
stuff my face with food eat.
The clasp from my long necklace got wedged in the tupperware and as I sat down, flipped it over. The. Soup. Was. Everywhere. It was on my coworker’s notes. It was on my pants. It was on the carpet.
I was mortified. I thought she, the neurotic perfectionist that she is, was going to kill me. We wiped everything down and I ate the remaining 1/3 of my soup. It was actually quite good.
Luckily, I was wearing black pants that day, so you couldn’t really tell that I’m
a moron covered in beet soup. I went to the bathroom, locked the door, took off my pants, and washed them. Then, I put them back on and went back to my office.
I spent the rest of my afternoon sitting in my office wearing no pants, while my pants were drying on the heater. That’s right, folks. You heard me. NO PANTS. I was wearing wool tights, however.
Nobody noticed. Nobody saw me. Nobody even walked by my office.
And at that point I realized, I’m living the American Dream. I seized the opportunity to work without the restriction of pants. And it was great.
Too scared to try it again. Not much of a gambler.