I can dimly perceive where the dedicated clotheshounds get it, that drive to go out shopping and cycle through their wardrobes, filling their closets with a neverending supply of new duds. Because there’s nothing quite like the feeling of putting on a new article of clothing the morning after its first run through the laundry and seeing that it fits. Not only fits, but it looks good.

Mind you, in my case this is something of a rarity, so don’t worry that I’m going all shopping-crazy. I still hate the challenge of finding, for instance, pants that actually fit me. (Common problems: Slacks that are all weirdly poofy in front, and way way way too long of inseams even though supposedly they’re the same length as the other three pairs of pants I’ve just tried on.)

Still… this morning, I’m moderately pleased. I take my victories and my pleasures where I’m able.

(Bonus points for knowing the song which gave me the post’s title without Googling for it…)

And a hearty, jolly, “thank you so very little” goes out to the schmucks working at the industrial supply outfit just down the street for making sure I was wide awake by 5:00am with a mixture of carrying on conversations at yelling volume, banging metallic things around, and setting off someone’s car alarm.

I mean, I didn’t need that hour of sleep, especially after the Daylight Savings change. Naaaah.