I decided for once in my life that I would wear a jacket that perfectly aligned to the verticality of my person, straight up and down–no dips or dives, no bacon tendencies.
I called upon my faithful servant to acquire one pre-ironed, pre-steamed, pre-drycleaned, pre-treated, you name it. Nothing but the best for this outstanding gentleman.
Nothing transpired of the whole ordeal. Just another afternoon of grandiose interstellar transpondership in which nobody understood who really runs the show–who among us does?
I really wish I could use my arms.