On Friday mornings, I wake up in a good mood. It’s not just that I know the weekend is coming and that I can sleep in the next day, which means I can drink caffeine in the afternoon like one of those carefree types who can handle the raw power of a 12-ounce can of Coke. No, the last day of the week is a good one because that’s the day my co-workers have designated Plaid Friday. And on Plaid Friday, I know exactly what I’m wearing to work.
Monday through Thursday mornings, I dread getting out of bed because I know what comes next. Thanks to my ultra-conservative, conformist office environment, I’m going to have to put on some clothes. The Man is really bringing me down.
I’ve had nearly 24 years to figure out how to dress myself — and believe me, I’ve come a…
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