I’ve been digging around in my closet looking for all the pieces to an outfit I last wore four years ago. To explain why, I have to go back to last night...
“What are your thoughts on the symphony?” Blaine called to talk about what we might do this weekend. “I’ve been offered tickets. If you’re interested I’ll accept.”
When I’m extremely stressed about something I’ll find the Symphony channel on XM and listen to it while in the car. If the selection isn’t some kind of a march or something with lots of screechy strings, I’ll instantly feel my shoulders relax and my racing mind slow. That’s the only time I listen to classical music.
“Sure, let’s do that.” He wouldn’t suggest it if he wasn’t interested, and I don’t mind the idea.
Back to my closet... I don’t exactly have a section of symphony wear in there. I was afraid I was going to have to make do with revamping something I wear to work, then I remembered a dress I wore to a wedding. I broke into the garment bags that have been shoved to one end of the closet for so long there’s a layer of dust on them. Inside one I found the dress and, amazingly, the bra that works with it. It’s simple with a nice cut, and I’d had it altered so it fits well (and still fits—score!). Midnight blue, knee length, V’s just deep enough to be interesting in front and back. The shoes may kill me—I haven’t worn heels regularly in years. At least if I do die I’ll already be dressed for the funeral.
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