See. Told you so. Me, tonight, wearing jeans, black long-sleeved tee shirt with some small bleach splatters on the front. Dinner. Mitzi elbows her milk cup off the table. It was pretty remarkable, how it hung there in space for a moment, like Wil E. Coyote off the cliff, before plummeting to the kitchen floor. At my feet. On impact, a tidal wave of milk splashed up my legs, on my shirt, rivers running across the hardwood.
Imagine if I’d been wearing my fancy new clothes!