dressing by random accretion

I woke up in a fleece shirt and athletic boxers. (*Because I'm a Sexual Athlete.) I walked into the kitchen to discover my sweatshirt on the table. I have no idea how it got there. I thought it was lost. In celebration, I put it on over my fleece. Then my feet were cold, so I put on my knee-high blue-striped toe socks and pulled them right up. This gave me Muppet Feet, which is a little disconcerting early in the morning, so I put on a pair of lumpy IKEA slippers overtop. (You can wash IKEA slippers, but I don't know that you should.)

The sweatshirt was doing its work, so I took off the fleecy through the arm of the sweatshirt -- one of my best useless talents is Changing without Undressing -- and then, feeling selfconscious sitting in front of the computer reading blogs without any pants on, I dug a pair of wrinkled cargo shorts out of the laundry, where they've been since last summer, and put them on.

Or, in IF:

>west

IN THE KITCHEN

You are in your kitchen. The dishes have recently beed done, but not by you. The butcher-block table is lovely, and has a charming list to one side, where an enormous cat is sleeping with his tail in your cereal.

You can also see a sweatshirt here.

> get sweatshirt

taken.

> wear sweatshirt

You put on the sweatshirt over your fleece. Sporty!

>inventory

You are carrying:

athletic shorts (worn)
fleece shirt (worn)
sweatshirt (worn)
toe socks (worn)
slippers (worn)
chip on shoulder (worn)

>x me

You appear to have been assembled out of discontinued hand puppets and the body parts of lost hikers.

-rf