Office attire

So I tucked in my collar shirt today before I went into the office. I felt like a real jackass.

It was laundry day and on St. Thomas -- at least for me anyway -- that means it was a very early morning, followed by jostling for open industrial dryers with local mothers. And those mothers are tough.

Our washing machine caught fire several months ago but our dryer is still hanging tough. Usually, I slip into the laundromat around 6:30 a.m., snag three washing machines (preferably next to each other) and quietly read my magazine like a good citizen.

If I get in there any time after 7 a.m. (and I can't imagine the Easter holiday helped my cause), then it's like looking for an open table at Panera during the lunch rush. The mothers rule. I was on their turf.

I brought my wet clothes back to my house, fired up my dilapidated dryer, and started my pre-work pamper ritual. No clean collars so I looked to the junior-varsity rotation. At the top of the lineup was a brand-new shirt my loving mother got for me months ago. I quickly wondered why it hadn't been moved up to varsity yet?

I held it to my body and found out quickly. Just a little long. Not too long, though. Nothing a round in the dryer wouldn't take care of.

Then a light bulb lit up above my head.

What if I tucked? Could I pull it off ... while wearing shorts?

I fashioned myself in the mirror for several minutes to see what looked best. Tucked-in looked stupid. Un-tucked made it look like a mini-Superman cape that covered my ass. Before I knew it, my pre-work pamper session stretched from the normal three minutes to nearly nine.

I went with the tuck (my mom would have been proud) and I wasn't three feet in the door before one of our copy desk editors made a comment.

"Looking good, champ," he said as we crossed each other in the hallway.

Champ? What a jackass.