Within moments of arriving at work today, I managed to spill yogurt down the front of my shirt. I'm not sure I could duplicate what happened if I wanted to. And, for the record, Chobani with honey has no business being in my bra. Just sayin'.
(Not to mention he fact that hours later I am still sticky and now smell mildly of spoiled milk.)
The cleanup resulted in the front of my shirt being oh-so obviously damp for most of the morning, which is highly distracting. Especially, when coworkers, volunteers or interns stop by for impromptu meetings or interoffice chit chats. And no matter how much I have attempted to get the yogurt off the front of my gray, V-neck, there are still random crusty, white splotches here and there that make me feel like strangers might think something else (a la Monica Lewinsky) is going on up in here. Which, OMG, no, no, NO!
Although once I get an inappropriate thought like that in my head, it is difficult to get it out. This sort of explains why I haven't left my office except to grab coffee, heat up my leftover soup and use the facilities. We wouldn't want The Yogurt to give The Public the wrong impression.
Speaking of coffee and lunch, I also managed to spill BOTH on my shirt as well as about half a glass of water. I guess I'm glad I didn't have time to run home and change. Apparently, today is just a day 'o' spills. Liquids are loving the gray, V-neck. Which I guess is okay since this particular top is easily laundered.
I just hope whatever is going on (cosmically?) clears up by tomorrow, because I have to wear a dress and heals. And the klutzy I am on a regular basis is usually nothing compared to the walking disaster I become when I've actually made some sort of effort.
I'm most likely doomed.