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Thursday, June 3, 2010

My Blue Oxford Shirt

I was thinking this morning that my life, as it currently twirls day in and day out, is much like my blue oxford shirt.  The blue oxford shirt with the button down collar and pocket on the left breast.  This mind numbing thought came to me as I was ironing it this morning. 

Each morning I get up a rumpled mess...my hair sticks up, my bed clothes are twisted and turned, my eyes are droopy and heavy still half sleeping....I am disheveled....just like my blue oxford shirt that needs ironing.

The ironing process is much like the process of turning myself from the bumbling incoherent mess that stares back from the bath mirror to a more polished individual ready to face the world.  When the wrinkles are gone, the collar is neatly pressed, the seams are crisp it's ready....as am I to face a day of friends and foes, and situations formidable and fanciful.  It is my armor and my lace in one.  My traveling companion for the day's events.

As the day wears on and said friends, foes, formidable and fanciful situations reach me I soldier on....as does my blue oxford.  We gradually wrinkle and droop,our sleeves roll up and down, our tails get mis-shapen from various locales, chairs and settings we end up in.  Our crispness wears down, our pulled together facade, it does fade.

At days end we are both tired.  To the couch to recline, perhaps now spotted with remnants of coffee or spaghetti sauce.  Worn down to our most basic selves, my shirt and I.  We no longer care if we are wrinkled or have grown soft, whether we look good or not so.  We are just here at home being comfy...until we must press ourselves into service on another morn.

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