I ask you, people, if YOU had your very own personal, dedicated seamstress/sex-slave (oops, did I type that out loud?) in YOUR house working her poor little fingers to the pin-pricked bone to make you a muslin for a dress shirt with your EXACT FAVOURITE details—band collar, no pockets—fitted to your exact, freakish body, just waiting to be translated into an array of final fabulous fabrics… would you be snoozing on the couch all afternoon while the light fades away? When she actually finished the muslin the NIGHT BEFORE, and you refused to try it on then… and again this morning when you got up… and now it’s almost suppertime and you’re still refusing?!?!
Honestly! Why do I bother again?
… oh, yeah. I’m insanely, madly in love with him. And he’s going to look HAWT in this shirt.
Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.
I think I’ll go make myself another circle skirt.