Wednesday, March 24, 2010

It's like Christmas Part Two.

This week is Spirit Week at work. Which is my favorite. I love this kind of thing! I view it as a challenge. Some staff members opt out of participating, which I laugh at. Why work in an elementary school if you're not going to enjoy these events?
Monday was Hat Day, which was easy enough once I dug out my cowboy hat. (I didn't think my only baseball hat, a Guinness one, was appropriate.) Tuesday was Crazy Hair Day, but in the Bitter house it was also Buttons Falling Off Pants Emergency Day, so I only had time for a couple braids. (Pants are more important than hair, in a work setting.) And I was mocked! It wasn't crazy enough for some staff members! I was shamed.

I made up for it today. Today, I brought my A game. Mismatch Day. The last time we had Mismatch Day, I was so uncoordinated that one teacher laughed at me all day long. So it was kind of a personal challenge. I'm sure you can understand.

I. Was. A. Hot. Mess. There were too many colors, too many layers, too many prints. (Awesomely enough, my kindergarten friends only noticed that my earrings were different, and thought that was the extent of my participation. I heart them.) It was no problem to walk around like that all day, even though we had an assembly and I'm sure the guy on stage was like, "Wow good job guys."
Then I had to stop at the bank. And...yeah, I endured many Polite Looks. The kind that suggest someone is sort of amused but refuses to laugh because they're mildly concerned that you'll react really badly if they do? I could have tried to fit in an explanation of how I was really just doing my job, but I figured the whole transaction would be over before I finished, and also do I really care what my bank teller thinks? She knows I'm not homeless; she's seen the identification that states otherwise.

I frequently call others out on not embracing the theme. One man at work was appalled when I suggested he hadn't dressed for the occasion. "Why don't any women get it??" His outburst caused me to double back and examine his outfit. Sensing that I didn't see it, he pointed at his tie. His shirt was a light purple with thin blue stripes. His tie was diagonal stripes in purples and blues.
"...You look fine. Normal."
How dare I. "You can't wear a print with a print! They're both striped!!"
I walked away mid-rant. Silly boy.

I don't give a crap who participates tomorrow, though. Because tomorrow is the Holy Grail of Spirit Days. My favorite school day, perhaps. Pajama Day. Say it with me, everyone. Pajama Day. It's glorious. Anyone who has ever dropped by my house unannounced (or frequently, dropped by my house at all, even with a warning) knows that I change into my sweats as soon as I get home, often beginning to change as I'm closing the front door. Friends used to invite me out with the phrase, "and put on some real pants." I've changed into pajama pants in moving cars, in my seat on an airplane, on the phone, and in crowded rooms. I love pajamas.

And tomorrow? I get paid to wear them.

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