Excuse Me While I Whip This Out...

Did you shriek? Did you gasp? Did you faint?

Well... you should have.

Try harder next time.

So, today is unseasonably warm in My Little Slice of Heaven. The weather forecast is remarkable:

Yeah. *Almost* 80 degrees. In Northern New England. In March.
That seems right.

In any case, it's too warm for woolies and boots anymore. Which means that yesterday, the Summer Clothes came out. And great excitement ensued.

The cute tops... The swishy skirts... The sandals and flip flops and The-Pastel-Purple-Ensconcements-of-Remarkable-Comfortableness-But-Also-Remarkable-Dorkiness-That-I-Only-Wear-To-Start-My-Car-In-The-Morning-Because-The-Rest-Of-The-Time-I'm-Ashamed-To-Own-Them Crocs... Oh yeah. The good stuff.

Except yesterday I wore the only skirt in the bunch that I could pull out of winter storage and wear immediately, because it was made to look wrinkled. And then last night I spent my time being outside in the sunshine... and then enjoying Tasty Noms of Social Awkwardness But Total Deliciosity**... and then going out for ice cream *with sprinkles*... So I didn't get around to airing the rest of the clothes out and conquering some of the months-old wrinkles.

Which means that my Morning Garb-A-Palooza today wasn't so easy.

After rifling through the entire box (and two different iterations of "I own *nothing* of suitable cuteness!", followed by "I thought your last outfit was awesome, honey...") I ended up finding one of my favorite purple dresses. It's soft cotton jersey - like wearing Boyfriend's favorite tee-shirt, but without the unfortunate side effect of being baggy in all the wrong places. And, you know, it's purple. I can do anything through Purple, who I'm pretty sure is magic.

But Favorite Purple Dress is clingy and drapey and doesn't have a pocket or a low-slung waistline. Which means that I had to endeavor to find some other accommodations for my badges this morning.

Yes, badgeS.

Being in a new office of markedly higher safety standards, I am safely ensconced within a maze of locked doors that only open for Bearers of The Badge. So safely ensconced, in fact, that it takes a series of badges to get into my Work-Week Homeland.

First, there is the Parking Garage Badge. Larger than its cousins, it contains what I am certain is a chunk of magnet thick enough to render a pacemaker useless. Every morning I flap it idly at the little pad, and the gate opens. I am worthy of parking my car. (It's nice, because it's 24/7 access to secure parking in the part of town filled with amazing restaurants and clubs and Places to Frequent with a Boyfriend of Amazingness. Thank goodness I have one, so I can go there.)

Then I tootle up the little hill and to the back door of the office where I must use Outside Door Badge in order to gain access to the building. It MUST be tipped sideways, though, which made access difficult in the beginning of my employment as it had been punched for my badgeholder on an end that got in the way of scanning. So mostly I just stood at the door looking pathetic until someone else came along and I could hitch a ride on their worthiness train. (Once Someone In Posession Of A Badge Punch found out about my predicament, though, it was quickly remedied. Now I can get in any time, all by my big girl self.)

Finally, once inside the building, I can abandon my other badges in favor of the one I need for inside: my Inside Door Badge. This is the prettiest badge of all, adorned with my face on one side and the splashes from a mud puddle it jumped into over the winter on the other. And whenever I encounter a door within the building, I flap the little badge against the little touchpad, and the lock clicks open.

Which is a pain in the neck first thing in the morning, when I put my badge on my desk so I can "run real quick to get my breakfast" and then can't get back inside. (So I stand in the hallway, looking as though I just got off the elevator and waiting for someone else to come along and beep me in.) And also when I wear pretty slinky purple dresses with no where suitable to clip a badge holder.

I tried clipping it to the little empire-waistline belt that is purely for decoration. It ended up agitating my armpit.

I tried clipping it to my neckline, just under my shoulder, but it ended up thwaping my chest, my arm and my ear whenever I walked. (The ear part boggles me. I wasn't jumping or anything.)

So that's how I ended up in the restroom this morning, trying desperately to figure out how to conceal an Inside Door Badge Of +5 Access To Workplaces in my bra.

It works okay, except for the pinching. It threw everything off kilter when I tucked it into one side or the other, so it's stuffed directly down the front.

Which means that I either need to stuff my hand down the front of my dress every time I encounter a door (a la Blazing Saddles, of course!) or I need to take sexual liberties with wall fixtures.

Either way, it's been an exciting day indeed.

** Deep fried chicken patty with bacon, cheese and a fried egg on top, all in one heavenly little burger called the "Mother and Child Reunion." Don't think... and for the love of all that is Purple, don't judge. Just eat.