Time Starts...

I have had a few crisis of wardrobe recently. I am usually not the dithering type when it comes to clothes. Sure I enjoy checking which of two tops I really want to wear before leaving the house and that sort of thing but usually the general theme of my attire is pretty clear to me.



Recently, however, I found myself having this conversation with Hottness:

Hottness: Hi! I'm here, nearly at the bar, where are you?

Herbert: Ah.. er... I'm at home!

Hottness: ... ok... well...

Herbert: I'm in my undies! I don't know what to wear! What do I do, Hottness??

Hottness: [hysterical laughter] um, I don't know! but I'll have a gin and tonic waiting for you when you decide

Herbert: and hot chips too?

Hottness: yes, hot chips too.

People, this has never happened to me before. Normally I am the one rolling my eyes on the other end of the phone at the muntedness of my friends.

The very next day, JZ dropped past to find me lolling around, watching Entourage and, although fully clothed, still unable to leave the house with him because the night ahead held varied amusments as well as decreasing temperatures so I needed to plan my satorial ensemble accordingly. I was unable to do this in the amount of time it was going to take Spakattak to drive from x to y, stopping at my place on the way. This is getting ridiculous.


Possibly a group that should've gotten the "end of naked time" memo earlier

On a slightly tangential note, I was interested to note the finite nature of Naked Time the other day. We've all been there. One minute you're all chill with hanging out, naked, with someone. You've done the sprint to the loo a few times, the sun has probably started setting up shop for the lunch-rush crowd and everything is fine.

Then, suddenly, it isn't fine anymore. I don't know what flicks the switch for the end of naked time. But there's always that moment where you suddenly, desperately, without question, need to be wearing clothes again. Sometimes both people receive this "end of naked time" memo simultaneously, sometimes not. And then, for the abruptly naked-alone person there's that uneasy moment where you start wondering where exactly you threw your knickers last night. And whether the person with clothes on is going to have their back turned long enough for you to make the dash to the corner you think they might be in. Strange.