Two weekends ago I came into owning a child's Packer snuggie. So last year's unfortunate borrowing of Mom's polyester jersey-nightgown nightmare will remain just that. For some odd reason, my suggestion of wearing a snuggie to work was not immediately rejected by Julie, office manager. This whole 'you do whatever you want, you silly college kid' thing has got to go. I'm spoiled.
The snuggie was a gift from Brett, my brother-in-law. Apparently he received two Packer snuggies as gifts last year, [reference photo from previous 'Christmas In Review' post] and one was sized perfect for me, a woman [I swear it] in a child's body. I was cold and they are deceivingly warm --you cannot leave the couch. Mike knows what I mean.
Okay, so beyond the obvious 'hey, jerk, you look like an idiot' stare-downs, which stung like rubber arrows, the following complications of navigating a doctor's office in an awkward body blanket ensued:
- I think it is worth repeating the first sentence of the previous paragraph, if only to note that the perps included ten year old girls. oh stop it, you have five years till high school.
- it is impossible to sneak around the office, say, for a refill of coffee, because your body mass has doubled.
- there are a lot of mirrors in the office.
- there is no back closure, the side flaps drag and catch on anything from doorways to coworkers' starchy pants.
- the many folds entice and hoard pens and cheetos.
- cold-back syndrome. this is serious!
- your co-workers encourage you to house the snuggie at work and wear again.
cannot wait for tomorrow.