When I pulled in to Panera last Saturday morning for our breakfast usual — two power sandwiches and a large iced tea for me, in case you were wondering but you probably weren’t — the drive-thru line was wrapped around the building. Ain’t nobody got time for that. I parked the car and ran inside to order.
One of two girls working the front register asked if I was headed to the big swim meet at the community pool across the street. “No, I’m going to work,” I replied.
“You’re allowed to wear that to work?!“
My first reaction was to panic. Did I leave the house without pants?! Was the dress I pulled from the closet this morning in my sleepy stupor actually a sheer bathing suit cover-up? Crazier things have happened when dressing myself; like the time I rushed home on my lunch break many…
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