Ddong Peh

I got to my desk this morning.  That’s already success right there.  You get up, you grab what fits, you feed your cat and run out the door.  I got to my desk and I looked down and saw this:

Oh..  my ddong peh.  I thought I grabbed clothes that fit this morning, but I grabbed clothes that barely fit, and I seem to have a problem with clothes that stay fastened.  Part of why I’m alive is to wear clothes.  Shoes in particular.  You would think that I’d be better at the details.  Once, I walked into my bosses’ office at Goldman Sachs with my belt unbuckled (so professional).  Another time, my shirt was unbuttoned (same boss).  I once escorted an executive from a European office clear across the trading floor with my dress tucked into my underwear.  I’ve looked down while on the subway train and noticed my shirt dress was unbuttoned just so that my entire navel in addition to ddong peh was exposed.  Last week, carrying my accordion around town, I noticed I was getting funny looks.  I looked down and my shirt was wide open.  I’m a walking Seinfeld episode.

I have no conclusions about this except that apparently my intimidation with physical objects applies to my garments as well.  Listen, I sing songs.  What do I know about appearances.


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