The new dress code

It's nice being able to flex my work schedule. Some people might work four ten-hour days, others four nines and a four. I often alter mine based on baseball games. I checked the schedule and the Toronto-Baltimore game was slated for 10:07 AM Pacific Time. Many games start at five minutes past the hour. I believe the extra two minutes added to the traditional start time of games in Toronto is to allow for the singing of Oh Canada. (I still know the words.) Back to work. I started at 5:30 this morning, and decided to leave at 9:30 so I could watch the game on the Major League Baseball Extra Innings cable package I so thoroughly enjoy. Plus, I have Ted Lilly, the Toronto starting pitcher on my fantasy team, Screwballs. Even if I didn't, it wouldn't matter. It's a day game. And then plans began to unravel. The game is not being televised. I could monitor it pitch by pitch on the computer. Then Ted Lilly was scratched from his start. What now? Well, I do have some laundry to do that I was putting off until tomorrow. (It is now half way through the wash cycle.) And I can take it easy and rest up for the Emeralds' last game of this homestand tonight. Yesterday's game was a gem for Eugene's starter. Five and two-thirds innings of perfect baseball. I opted for a lime snow cone rather than my usual cherry one, and took notice that the fluorescent alien green matched my t-shirt perfectly. I had an epiphany. From now on I would buy snow cones that matched my shirt. Or, conversely, select my shirt based on what flavor of snow cone I would buy. I'm not a slob and don't slop snow cone on my shirts. This would be a purely aesthetic decision. A fashion statement. I simply would not be able to wear my purple shirts any more. I don't like grape snow cones. I don't even like real grapes much, unless they're soaked in the delectable syrup of fruit cocktail. I used to drink wine, but that didn't really taste much like grapes. Especially some of the wines I drank. Bacchanalian delights and Eleusinian (pronounced Elefsinian) mysteries. My apologies dear reader, for I digress. Without regard for the taste explosion that will be dictated by the new dress/snow cone policy, I think I'll wear a tie-dyed shirt tonight, even though it must be washed separately in cold water. Game time is 7:05. Now I've got to put the clothes in the dryer. Permanent press.