Sartorialisms

Why is it that can never find my underpants when I want them? That's a sentence you might equally expect to come from a person with dementia, a nudist who is due to attend an important interview with a non-nude person, a person who has is secretly being stalked by the neighbourhood snowdropper, and me. Is it because my underpants are hiding from me or something? Or do I actually have dementia but forgot about it? (No, no, no need to tell me, I'm happy as I am.)

In other sartorial matters, I discovered on the train this evening that I had buttoned up my shirt the wrong way. Although I did put the bottom button in the bottom button hole, and proceeded up the shirt in the usual manner, I discovered too late that the bottom button hole and the bottom button didn't actually match up. So my shirt's ganging up on me now?

Also, any attempts to take a pink frilly brolly with spots in to work furtively, in order to make sure it is not noticed, are sadly misguided*. Who knew?

*And after all that it didn't rain anyway. I ask you! Whinge whinge grumble grumble harrumph grump.