Today was the first day of school. Derek's first day teaching his class on something incredibly boring to me but very exciting to him. And at a very prestigious university, one that neither he nor I could get into back in the day. I should probably remember what his class is, but I was just so overwhelmed by his outfit this morning that I really couldn't get past that.
As he crawled out of bed at some ungodly hour, I asked him if he was going to wear a dress shirt today. His, "ah, no" should have been my first clue.
When I dragged my lazy ass out of bed to make him breakfast (keep your "what a good 1950's wife" comments to yourself. Renee already gave it to me when she heard the story. LOL), I walked into the den to find him wearing a polo shirt with three holes in the back of it. Three holes where the tag probably was at one time.
K: You are not wearing that to class today.
D: Why not?
K: It's full of holes.
K: Did you just decide one day that the tag was bothering you so you just reached back and ripped it as hard as you could?
K: Did you happen to notice the holes?
D: I don't know.
K: Do you think that those kids paying $1200 a credit hour will really respect you with those holes in your shirt? Or those kids getting $1200 a credit hour in loans?
D: I don't know.
K: I know the geek factor is going to be WAY HIGH in your class, but that is too much. Change that shirt.
Renee said that her father can't even get dressed in the morning without her mother's help or he would be wearing ripped up clothes that he found someplace.
So you are saying I have another 46 years of this to look forward to?