hook and stylit: oh Tuesday.

WTF Tuesday?!?
People say that Monday is the worst day of the week, but their dumb. Tuesday is obviously the worst day of the week for SO many reasons.

I'll list (some) of them for you:

Everything that people didn't email you on Friday afternoon or Monday because they didn't want it to get lost in your loaded inbox is waiting for you on Tuesday.
On Monday you can reminisce about your past 2 days of freedom with friends and co-workers, which can take up anywhere from 30% - 50% of your day (depending on how fun your weekend was).
No presidents or Jewish people have holidays on Tuesdays (they usually attach those to a weekend for obvious extended vacation reasons).
You are expected to be productive on Tuesdays.
Everything that people forgot to tell you to do on Friday and didn't remember to tell you to do on Monday they magically remember whatever that was on Tuesday and it is without a doubt an emergency and all other things must be dropped until the (forgotten) emergency is attended to.
On Monday the clothes in your closet are all hanging up and ready to be worn and styled. On Tuesday the clothes you tired on and didn't wear on Monday are on the ground and all the creativity you had for your outfits over the weekend is missing.

If I have not convinced you yet - email me and I'm sure I can come up with at least 50 more reasons about why Tuesdays are crappier than Mondays.

Have you ever had one of those days when you leave the house in an outfit, get to work, and then decide that you absolutely hate it? Hate it do much that you consider telling your boss that you've developed a rare bird / swine flu and need to leave immediately?

Today (Tuesday) was that day for me.

As soon as I got to work, my super cute skirt felt way too short, my tank top kept riding up, my shoes were all wrong, and my hair went from decent to grease ball all in a short 3 minute trek from car to office. I lasted 2 hours, I couldn't take it anymore. I ran out of that building in my (mini) skirt, B-lined to my car, and took my grease-ball self home for a wardrobe intervention.

ahh ... comfort.