Dress Code

<p class="has-drop-cap" value="<amp-fit-text layout="fixed-height" min-font-size="6" max-font-size="72" height="80">I had a friend who had a bad habit of going into his shop and working in good clothes. His sainted wife was the individual in charge of keeping him supplied with dress khakis and blue button-down Oxford shirts.<br>She also was in charge of repairing the abuses he inflicted on them.<br>He would get grease stains on the pants from the 1929 Rolls he was restoring. The daubs of model paint from the models he constructed for clients went on the Oxford shirts. Precise to a fault in his work, his focus did not extend to the hand rubbing off a bit of glue on his pants leg.<br>All this is OK if you have someone to scrape the glue bits off, place stain remover on stains, and grease dissolver on grease. And, by the way, she folded and hung up too.<br>Since I habitually wear the grodiest jeans and torn t-shirts in my wardrobe when in the shop, I have no issues with this sort of thing. A bit of extra glue on my jeans doesn't make a bit of difference. It may even help things hang together for a while longer.<br>My wife doesn't touch my laundry. I was firmly taught as a youth to do my own.<br>However, one evening when both couples were together, laundry notes were compared, and tally's made. I was up by five points over my friend for not soiling good clothing, and doing my laundry. On the other hand, I went down five points when my wife pointed out my bad habit of running towels through the wash in the same load as clothing. I was now even with my friend, who had lost the same number of points. I was up five points again when it came out that I put my clothes away and hung up shirts and pants. My friend went down the same amount because he did neither. I snidely grinned. My wife then revealed that I never folded anything that I put away in the draws; I just shoved in the stuff. Back down again. It was my friend's turn to grin.<br>At last, our wives began to calculate our ill-begotten ways in terms of much it cost to buy all the detergent, bleach, and assorted goods. Because, after our loads were filthy and needed more attention. We both lost whatever positive points we had remaining and began to head into negative numbers.<br>Glancing at each other, we silently and wisely determined not to mention all the fabric softener, Woolite, and anti-static sheets that our spouses bought. Nor did we mention the number of delicate cycles used.<br>There were worse sins that could get tallied, and we had no desire to attract attention to them.I had a friend who had a bad habit of going into his shop and working in good clothes. His sainted wife was the individual in charge of keeping him supplied with dress khakis and blue button-down Oxford shirts.
She also was in charge of repairing the abuses he inflicted on them.
He would get grease stains on the pants from the 1929 Rolls he was restoring. The daubs of model paint from the models he constructed for clients went on the Oxford shirts. Precise to a fault in his work, his focus did not extend to the hand rubbing off a bit of glue on his pants leg.
All this is OK if you have someone to scrape the glue bits off, place stain remover on stains, and grease dissolver on grease. And, by the way, she folded and hung up too.
Since I habitually wear the grodiest jeans and torn t-shirts in my wardrobe when in the shop, I have no issues with this sort of thing. A bit of extra glue on my jeans doesn’t make a bit of difference. It may even help things hang together for a while longer.
My wife doesn’t touch my laundry. I was firmly taught as a youth to do my own.
However, one evening when both couples were together, laundry notes were compared, and tally’s made. I was up by five points over my friend for not soiling good clothing, and doing my laundry. On the other hand, I went down five points when my wife pointed out my bad habit of running towels through the wash in the same load as clothing. I was now even with my friend, who had lost the same number of points. I was up five points again when it came out that I put my clothes away and hung up shirts and pants. My friend went down the same amount because he did neither. I snidely grinned. My wife then revealed that I never folded anything that I put away in the draws; I just shoved in the stuff. Back down again. It was my friend’s turn to grin.
At last, our wives began to calculate our ill-begotten ways in terms of much it cost to buy all the detergent, bleach, and assorted goods. Because, after our loads were filthy and needed more attention. We both lost whatever positive points we had remaining and began to head into negative numbers.
Glancing at each other, we silently and wisely determined not to mention all the fabric softener, Woolite, and anti-static sheets that our spouses bought. Nor did we mention the number of delicate cycles used.
There were worse sins that could get tallied, and we had no desire to attract attention to them.