Polka-dot pants are inappropriate office-attire

Mondays are notoriously great.  A day when people wake up with a song in their heart, full of glee, ready to embrace the arrival of a new week with vigor and joy.  For not only does the day announce our return to hell work, it also sounds the bell for the end of a weekend, during which we didn’t do much anyway.

NOT.

Mondays suck.  MASSIVELY.  Like no Electrolux ever sucked in history.

Getting ready for work on a Monday morning must be the worse form of torture apart from getting your testicles knocked by a Frenchman ala James Bond in the opening scene of Casino Royale.  A sequence that still makes me cross my legs involuntarily.

First you have to get out of bed, a feat by itself, but a miracle if you achieve it without pressing the snooze button on the alarm.  Then you have to shower because society tends to frown upon unshaven, sweaty, funky smelling men.  Then you need to get dressed…OMG…

Mondays are probably the only time where I can relate to women when it comes to not knowing what to wear.  It takes me forever to decide on a pair of pants and a shirt that sort of goes together.  Mainly because my preferred style of clothing, or TSS (t-shirt, shorts and slacks) doesn’t sit well with the dress requirements of someone working for a chemical company.

Other than trying to get myself looking somewhat respectable, I also have a few other weekly errands around the house.  One of them is keeping our pool clean, clear and blue.  It is still summer and water-splashing/swimming is crucial to our survival down here.  It’s amazing how tolerant people get with the heat when you have a nice, murky green pool.  They just won’t swim.  They’ll just frown in disgust.  It’s also quite amazing to see how quickly a pool can go from blue to green.  Just leave if for a week or so.  Or wait for a thunderstorm.  One thing you need to understand about having a pool is that once you allowed that thing to turn green, NO amount of chemicals on earth will ever get it back to blue.

Keeping a pool blue is actually very easy, if you know what your doing; which is why I think it’s damn near impossible.  I have been surprisingly successful this season, but the season is not over yet and I’ve probably jinxed it by boasting about it.  I’ve adopted a maintenance routine that basically has me chuck some off-the-shelf chlorine powder mixture into the water, once a week.  Then I sprinkle pixie dust over my right shoulder and pray to the gods of clarity to do the rest.

Here’s an interesting tidbit about chlorine.  It gets hard when it becomes moist. *insert giggle*  Then it doesn’t come out easily.  From the container.  So you have to beat the container against the side of the pool to loosen it a bit.  The chlorine.  If that doesn’t work, try rinsing the container repeatedly.

Did you know that chlorine and *insert material that pants are made of* doesn’t go well together?  Did you know that when chlorine-water lands on your blue pants, it will strip the colour right out and leave behind a gorgeous splattering of pink dots? Did you know that it actually acts like a bleach because and here’s another fun fact, it is in fact, bleach?

Neither did I.  At least not up until the point of getting behind the steering wheel of my car, fifteen minutes later.  And irrespective of how bad Mondays are, no self-respecting male are allowed to wear pink polka-dot pants, unless you’re a clown.  I had no choice but to change my pants, as contrary to what you might hear, I still need to maintain some level of credibility at work.

In the process of running back into the house and trying to find another pair of pants that would go with the shirt I was wearing, I manage to work up a sweat all over again, nullifying the whole purpose of a morning shower AND I had to vend off the accusations of my children for ruining their social life, as they ran the risk of being late for school.

I remained calm in the midst of the storm, proof being they all arrived in one piece.  And on time, I like to add.  Me on the other hand, was unceremoniously late for the weekly meeting with my team.  At least they made coffee.

PS – My pants are ruined. Or are they?

images (4)

I guess I was wrong about any self-respecting male

 

 

 

 

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