I bought a pleather jacket. It partially was on a whim. I went to a conference a few weeks ago in North Carolina, and the weather was too warm for a coat and too cold for a blazer. Usually, I go add another layer and a scarf and use my blazers as jackets, but the temperatures also were such that I would rapidly swing from being cold and hot throughout the course of the day.
I could have worn the fabric jacket I already own but I don’t wear it in formal settings anymore. Like (until recently) the inside of my car and nearly everything I own that is pure black, that jacket is completely covered in Missy’s hair, and no amount of anything changes that.
I once cleaned out the dryer lint trap and it was 90% dog hair. And there still was dog hair embedded in some of my clothing. I don’t know how she isn’t bald.
But I digress.
Anyway, as you can see, I quickly added a button a pin and a No BS! Brass-styled guitar pick. I’ve turned some heads since this is a slight departure from me being constantly dressed as a fancy gentleman. But I also almost exclusively wear Converses now. And now I own technically three pairs of jeans and three pairs of shorts.
I’ve think I’ve been going through a crisis of some sorts. I kinda want a nose piercing and that seems even more absurd now that I’ve written it out for the first time.
I’m not saying a correlation equals a equal causation, but pleather and a possible nose ring are coming up during my experimentation with not drinking. Saturday is the 43rd day since I’ve had alcohol. I’ve decided that I’m not going to have any booze until I want some booze, and I haven’t yet. The occasional nonalcoholic beers I’ve had have been good in inducing a placebo effect of sorts. My subconscious applauds my liver for doing a great job of processing alcohol quickly whenever I have at least two and, as expected, nothing happens.