Dressed to kill, and to run
Last weekend my wife and I went out for a night on the town. It’s not like it was our first night out since becoming parents, but I’m pretty sure it was our first night out out. Like, we went to a club. Or a discotheque. Or whatever it’s called when it’s not PF Changs. Of course this meant that I needed to dress nicely, and not my version of nicely. This is a struggle for me because there is really not much in my wardrobe that falls in between the formality of a suit I would wear to a wedding and my business casual attire for work. I thought the collared shirt with suit pants screamed, “I’m here to have fun, but I might get called into work at any second to file an expense report.” I thought I had it figured out. I was feeling very good, very confident about what I had chosen to wear. I walked downstairs, proudly looked at my wife for approval, but she looked me up and down, frowned, and nodded her head no. I said, “What?” She nodded again. I said, “Okay, just tell me what you...