Today, I signed up for a discount card at my local supermarket; it's effective immediately.
It's called being fiscally responsible.
They gave me a card and this little thing I can put on the chain of my car keys. I've got too many cards in my wallet, so I just threw away the normal-size card and I'll be going with the thing on my car keys -- It doesn't even matter: they can look me up by my phone number if I lose the thing on my car keys. So I'm covered.
This restaurant gives me moist towelette packets with my meals, and they're great -- I'm using them for all kinds of hygienic purposes! I'm saving tons of money on soap and shampoo and deodorant and the doctor says the rash isn't that bad.
Well, the dry cleaners didn't get the stain out completely, but they got it out enough.
The pants are wearable.
I'll always see that stain, but no one else will.
I did my best -- we, the cleaners and I -- did our best. And sometimes in life, that's the best you can do; that's all you can do.
I went the distance, mama. I can live with that. I can wear those pants.
I went to a sports bar this evening to get dinner (a delicious hamburger and Coca-Cola), and I was sitting at the bar, when I noticed this guy flossing after his meal. Yes, he was flossing at the bar after his meal. I didn't know before, but I certainly know less now. Good Lord!
I'm getting the pants back Saturday at 3 p.m., two days from now. The anxiety, laced with excitement, is killing me.
My pants are now at the dry cleaners. When I took them in, the dry cleaning lady did not seem to be very invested in getting the stain out; she just kind of said she'd do her best in an unenthusiastic way. I don't have much confidence that this is going to work out.
I got a stain on my pants (sweat pants) and I can't get it out.
It's a very noticeable stain, otherwise, I wouldn't care.
But now I'm gonna have to take them to the dry cleaners and waste a very small amount of money trying to save them. It's already ruined my day and, probably, my entire life.
I hate clothes. I essentially wear the same basic inexpensive clothes every day, but I used to wear the exact same clothes -- the same outfit (there was only one) -- every day. I did this for two years straight, and I barely ever washed the clothes, too. It was fantastic! (I'm dead serious.) It was total freedom! I took a lot of heat for living like that, but I didn't care. Now people's comments about such matters affect me a lot more: I've lost my edge.
I really miss those days. I had so much more confidence. I was a total animal. But now . . .
So here I am, a coward worrying about his sweat pants. PATHETIC!
It's like what Cougar says in "Top Gun" when he hands in his wings: "I'm holding on too tight. I've lost the edge. I'm sorry, sir. I'm sorry."
Today I wore nothing but a leotard around. The cops and I agreed it was a bad idea.
