(No strep! No one has strep or any other infectiously streppy diseases. We are all fine, although I'm not sure when Jason will stop making me check his uvula with a flashlight because of phantom throat itches. I tried to point out that we're well past any reasonable incubation period here but no matter. The paranoia lives on.)
So technically, my dog only ate the zipper of my business suit. I discovered this yesterday, as I was trying to cobble a professional-type outfit together out of a mountain of jeans and pajama tops that I like to pretend pass as shirts.
I have exactly one (1) suit in my posession these days, and apparently at some point I left it in a crumpled heap on the floor (WHY I NEVER, EXCEPT I ALWAYS), and Ceiba chewed on and destroyed the skirt's zipper. I had less than 20 minutes before my meeting at that point, so I safety pinned the skirt. Then, as a backup to conceal the safety pins, I dug out one of those black lycra belly band things I used to hide the waistband of my unbuttoned pants during pregnancy.
(Why do I own only one business suit and still have like, five pregnancy belly bands? I don't know. I don't know my life.)
After that, there was a frantic search for suitable hosiery, and eventually I was able to find one (1) pair that only had one (1) hole down over my toes, which I was more or less confident would be hidden by my shoes. I smeared a generous layer of clear nail polish over the hole just to be safe, and headed off to my Important Business Meeting Amongst Fellow Businessing Adults in confidence. Or at least a variation on confidence, since the belly band kept hiking my skirt up when I walked and the only Post-Its I had to mark up my work with were hot pink.
The Important Business Meeting went fabulously well, by the way. Yours truly does occasionally manage to get herself from Point A to Point B without falling into open manholes, and can actually converse intelligently with Fellow Businessing Adults without accidentally mentioning her boobs.
Of course, points deducted because at some point in the meeting, I tried to discreetly slip my foot out of my pinchy heels to stretch my toes a bit, only to realize that I'd put my shoes on before the nail polish dried, and now my hose and my toes had securely adhered themselves to the inside of my shoe.
Eh. We'll call it a draw. How is your week going?