me = idiot

Going to the gym in the morning, when you're still groggy and trying to figure out why the main characters in your dream were dancing forks, inevitably increases the possibility of leaving something behind. Luckily, such items are generally negligible... hence their being forgotten. Salad dressing. Socks. A spoon. Occasionally a bra. When these things are left behind, it's just a hitch. You can make do, even if it means eating dry lettuce for lunch or keeping the gals hidden with a sweatshirt.

Then today happened, when I found myself standing in the gym locker room - showered and otherwise ready to go - in leggings, boots and a tank top. Noticeably absent from my gym bag was the dress meant to go over said leggings.

I had 10 minutes until work, which is 5-10 mins from the gym, and I had to weigh out my options: A) go to work a la Catwoman, or B) scamper the 15 minutes home, put on the dress and then scamper the 20 minutes to work, hoping to make it in by 10. This is all up and down the same long street, mind you. A shop worker said hi to me three - count 'em THREE - times this morning.

In the end, tardiness prevailed over what would likely have been the saddest attempt at a Catwoman costume ever. Interestingly enough, I probably burned up more pesky calories outside of the gym this morning than inside it.