The other day, I was waiting for a text to let me know to leave the house to meet a person for a thing, but the person was late, or being made late, and so for about 20 minutes I was in a sort of limbo, a purgatory state between ready-to-go and out-the-door.
Confronted with a similar scenario, some people would respond to emails, shuffle through Spotify, catch up on “Little Women: L.A.” — you know, the Styrofoam packing peanuts of life.
Me? I got undressed, then dressed again. And again. What about this sweater with that shirt, or those socks with that jacket, or those sneakers with that scarf? By the time I finally got the green light to leave, I was in a totally different outfit than the one I had initially planned, and a better and more imaginative one to boot.