Underbelly junkies will recall that I have been leading a peripatetic life in my post retirement phase as I squat in various otherwise temporarily vacant offices. This weekend I was trying to organize my clothes and I counted only two suits. That's funny, I thought I owned three suits: one for the funeral*, one for any possible indictment and one to wear to class. What happened to the third suit?
Wait a minute, folks, here it is--right on the peg in my friend Dan's office, just where I left it last, um, must have been last April. But I don't suppose I was wearing a suit in April in this Mediterranean climate anyway. So the natural order has been restored. Though it does make me wonder how many garments I have left trailing behind in how many other offices before I got here.
*I jest. As far as I'm concerned it is okay if they leave me out for the buzzards and I don't think they want cloth anyway.