Following on from yesterday’s post, and in a bid to get back into the writing-about-my-life habit again, let the record show that the day I wore this skirt (which was a very kind gift from the people at JOY the Store), was the first dry day in roughly 1,000 years, and Terry and I were on our way to dinner with Terry’s family.
I know, you’re already riveted by this, aren’t you? Don’t worry, it gets even better…
Once we got home, I took off the skirt, and the petticoat I was wearing underneath to give it some extra volume (to be honest, this skirt doesn’t actually NEED the extra volume, but every little helps, doesn’t it?), and got changed into my scruffiest jeans, to do some cleaning. There was just one problem: my beloved steam cleaner was broken. Actually, it had been broken for over a week at that point: I just hadn’t done anything about it (other than whining to Terry, obviously), because the only thing I could think to do was to just take it out of the cupboard every so often, press the button on the handle that releases the steam, and hope it would have miraculously fixed itself.
But it hadn’t.
Exasperated, I took it to Terry, and dumped it on the ground next to him. “I’m just about to throw this in the bin,” I said, “Because it’s broken beyond repair, and nothing can be done to fix it! Unless, of course, something can be done to fix it?”
Terry sighed and picked up the steam cleaner – which, by the way, he has never actually used, because I don’t let other people play with my toys. He looked at it for a few seconds, then looked up at me.
“You do know there’s an ON/OFF switch” on the front of this, right?” he said. “And it’s switched OFF right now?”
Er, no. I did NOT know that. I mean, I MUST have known it at SOME point, obviously, because I presumably must have set the switch to the ON position: my best guess is that I’d just left it like that ever since, though, working on the assumption that all I had to do was plug the thing in, and it would magically work.
That’s NOT all you have to do, though. No, you ALSO have to switch the damn thing on, and that, my friends, had been my big mistake here. So I switched it on, and sure enough, it worked like a dream: and then I had to just try to back out of the room slowly, hoping to God that Terry would not ever mention this random act of complete and utter stupidity again, but knowing with utter certainty that he will probably torment me with it for the rest of my life. GOD.
Just to prove that I’m not the MOST stupid member of our household, though, remember how I said I’d taken off my skirt and petticoat? Well, I’d dumped the petticoat (which is one of those white tulle numbers that looks absolutely enormous when you put it down somewhere) on one of the office chairs temporarily, and when I came back into the room to collect it, I discovered Rubin standing at the chair, wagging his tail enthusiastically, and giving excited little barks at it. From his behaviour, we deduced that Rubin thought I was the petticoat – or that it was ME, rather. I didn’t know whether to be flattered (I mean, if you’re going to be mistaken for an item of clothing, I guess a petticoat is quite a glamorous one to be, no?) or offended, but in the end I settled on just being grateful that it helped distract Terry from the whole ‘Steam Cleaner’ incident for a few seconds.
And that’s what happened The Day I Wore the Skirt.
Louche Luxe ‘Kienna’ matt satin skirt c/o JOY the Store; Collectif sweater; Christian Louboutin shoes