Most people I know love Friday mornings.  It represents the 12 hour countdown to the weekend.  5, 4, 3, 2, 1 hour ’til party time, hard drinks and bright shiny lights.  People dig it.  I dread it.  Friday mornings mean 1 major decision I have to make every week.  That’s 4 times a month and 52 times a year.  And it’s no fleeting decision. It’s a decision I’ll have to live with for the subsequent 2-4 days.  It’s serious. 

What jeans am I going to wear?

Okay I know what you’re thinking.  But It’s not as easy as it seems because I’m not like everyone else.  I change my jeans twice a week max despite the fact that  I have 12-15 pairs of jeans at my disposal.  And trust me, 12 jeans is a feat for me.  I had 42 pairs at one point.  I eventually had to get rid of them because Friday mornings were just causing me too much anxiety.

It’s a ritual really.  You’ve got to change belts, file receipts, put away change, empty the miscellaneous “garbage” that never actually makes it to the trash can and just sits on your dresser and then you have to decide to hang the damn things back up or throw them in the hamper.  And even once that’s done you’ve still got to appoint the chosen pair of the new week, apply the belt, fill up the pockets and hope to God the jeans match with the shirts you randomly pull from the closet the rest of the week/end.  

So maybe you don’t think my choice is as tough as Sophie’s, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t.
-Lex