So, last Friday I went to pick up Kelly after school wearing the same clothes that I had worn to the gym earlier that day. Whenever I wear my gym clothes to school I make sure that I’m not wearing any of the t-shirts that Mark has gotten me over the years, like the one that says “Please Stop Feeding My Silent Rage” or “It’s Not an Attitude Problem, I Just Hate You.”
So, anyway, I parked the car and headed into the school library. At pick-up time the library is always teeming with kids and parents trying to connect, while two teachers armed with clipboards and pens guard the one exit to make sure that kids
get the hell out are actually going home with their designated picker-upper.
So this was the shirt I was wearing.
Indeed, it does.
Bothersome Truth: But you didn’t survive. You got infected.
Well, I bought it before I ran the race. I was very confident.
Truth: If by confident you mean delusional…
As soon as I stepped foot in the door I saw Kelly and waved. And she pointed to my shirt, and said (in a very loud voice), “Mom! What is that?”
Unbeknownst to me (until that moment), and to my mounting horror, THIS is what THAT was:
Oh, holy hell.
And nobody else had said anything all day long about it. That makes me wonder if they thought (a) I already knew I was wearing a bloody stump of an arm or (b) if my wearing something like this was completely expected.
In any case, I think to be safe I just need to show up wearing no clothes at all when I pick Kelly up from now on.