After that unusually dark tweet thread (if you missed it, good for you. I'm usually a ray of sunshine but i was a wee bit upset when i wrote that. Anyway, back to the res), here's something you guys might enjoy. We've been invited out for dinner.
If the question that crossed your mind is "Why would anyone in their right minds invite old Naren?", you can pat yourself on the back for your extraordinary Sherlockian skills. And if you instantly found the answer, which is "Ah, it was Sheela they invited" you can add Poirot to
that list. She really does look heavenly when she steps out in evening wear. Unfortunately, in my case that's not a given. Every time I've selected what clothes I should wear, Sheela has had to overrule, necessitating an arduous redressal (haha) of that situation (I'm so witty!)
An upshot of this is I (apologies for the #tmi) strut around in my underwear till I'm told what to wear. Today, those instructions took their own sweet time coming, owing to some particularly tricky makeup she was wearing, leaving me, an impatient man, irascible
"If you don't tell me what to wear, I'm coming just like this" I told her. "Go right ahead" she said "we could use the entertainment". Then, probably having had a better look at me, added "Here, wear this shirt and your jeans"
Thus has a novel sartorial experiment been averted.
Thus has a novel sartorial experiment been averted.
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