One of the best things about my job is the fact that I can roll out of bed and stumble bleary-eyed to my desk a mere 20 feet away. Heck, I don't even have to brush my teeth, if I don't wanna.
Usually I type for about an hour, sucking down my Senseo, until my body wakes up enough to hop into the shower.
After that, I have two choices. If I plan to go anywhere during the day, I put on my "uniform." That consists of a polo shirt onto which I've embroidered my company name. Heck, it's free advertising, right? On days I plan to stay home, I opt for pure comfort...sweat pants and a t-shirt. And since there's not an iota of comfort in a brassiere, it definitely doesn't come out of my dresser. That's right, I let my boobs hang low and wiggle to and fro.
Since Ohio was blanketed under a Winter Weather Advisory today, I knew my butt was gonna be Velcroed to my desk chair, so I stuck with the old "sweats and t-shirt" plan.
Unfortunately, plans don't always go...well, according to plan.
My doorbell rings.
Assuming it is someone soliciting for a charity or some other useless nonsense (yeah, I'm a hardened soul), I open the front door, only to find Dr. N, a client I've had for 5 years. And I'm standing there in jammie pants, no socks, a ratty t-shirt, and no bra. Yeah, that's me, I'm a true professional.