"Faith, have you seen my Steve Maddens?"
(I call them that because they are the only pair of designer shoes I own (don't worry--I didn't pay for them))
"No."
I find them and put them on. Hmm...should I change shirts? The shoes are blue, but I'm wearing my green stripey shirt. Oh well, I do not care. No one looks at my feet anyway.

I go in to brush my teeth. WHAT!??! There are three small slices on the right side of the shirt. How the heck does that even happen?!

I go into her room with my blue stripey shirt (that I will eventually change into).

"Well, I guess I have to change anyway. Should I pitch this or would you use the fabric for your sewing stuff?"

"Oh, I would use that!"

"But I kinda want to rip it. There's nothing more satisfying than the sound of tearing cloth. And since it's green, I can feel very hulk-i-fied."

So I tear my shirt at the slivers. Yep, very satisfying, indeed.

"Um, ok, so I'll unbotton the rest and stop ruining your fabric."

"Thanks."

And thus begins my morning. I am an hour fifteen late for work, no breakfast in me, crampy, and now one of my favorite shirts is destroyed.

Have a better day than me. I double dog dare you!