"Um, no."

I hear those two words quite frequently in response to a question I ask my wife just about every morning: "Does this match?" This problem has been exacerbated lately my a couple of unfortunate developments. The first one came Christmas Eve when I received two pairs of really nice pants from my mother in law. Of course, they weren't blue, black, tan, or even olive. I don't even know what color they are but they fit and I like them. I mentioned to Nan that she was going to have to help me match my shirts to the pants as I had (and still have) no clue which shirts go with which pants.

Another more catastrophic event sent my early-morning life into tumult. Usually I had enough time to ask Nan what goes with what, get my clothes ironed, and then get out the door. Nan is now driving the boys to school because of a busing schedule change and is now unable to give me the fashion advice I need in a timely manner. She is getting the boys up a bit later and I am left largely on my own to locate my clothes, match them, and get them looking presentable for wear to work. It is hard, but I am trying my best to get through this.

I need Garanimals big time. The matching animals on my size tags would help me a great deal and calm the storm that has been raging in my head lately. I must confront this with great vigor.


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