Clothes Call

I have nothing of import to discuss tonight. Instead, I need to worry about my roommate Claire. Guaranteed, on any given day, the girl has 90 percent of her clothes on INSIDE OUT. Or backwards. Or inside out AND backwards. See, she's a GROWN UP. A homeowner. A crazy-successful ATTORNEY. And yet?

And yet...

There are six out of seven days a week when I need to intervene on the proper direction of her clothing. Yay! I'm helping!

She tells me how mortified she is when she finds herself in a client meeting, staring down her neck at the itchy tag of her shirt. Or when she comes home from a long day at work, takes her suit off in the living room and gets annoyed when I double over, laughing, at the fact that her skirt, tank and probably underwear are on inside out.

Claire bemoans "How does this happen to me?! Shouldn't I have a 50/50 chance of getting my clothes on right?!"

Oh, Claire, no...As an adult you should have a 100/0 chance of putting your shirt on the right way.

Listen, in her defense, the girl is BUSY. She's definitely much more important than I am, so when I say things like "It's okay! It happens to everyone!" She's all "It doesn't happen to YOU!" And I'm all "Well, no, it doesn't, but wolf sweatshirts are pretty easy to get on the right way the first time."

I'll miss this about Claire. I'll miss a friend looking at me, earnestly, asking me what I think about her outfit. Then I can say something like "Well, it'd look perfect, except your leggings are on inside out. Besides that? Perfection!" Yes, that's a definite perk/responsibility I once owned living here.

Oh, I should mention...I was officially approved for my new apartment today and will be moving out in early June. For a few weeks now, Claire and I have been arguing about what we'd miss the most about living with each other. She'll miss my angry morning attitude, and I will miss her haphazard dressing. After twenty billion years of being friends, I guess we just understand how to appreciate the little things...