24 | January | 2015 | ombiaiinterijeri

I am, let’s say interested in a guy building next to ours, we share mailbox areas. And then you have one of those days when you feel like a million bucks because your hair is just the way it should be, you wear your favorite lipstick and you dress sits perfect because you finally lost those 2-3 kg.
No, on days like this I never meet him.
I meet him like yesterday where I am half sick, looking like somebody chewed up and spit me out, I have my pyjamas on and rush to the post box down the street to send something what is almost overdue. I have my office coat and my office boots on and my pyjama pants neatly tucked in my boots.
Nice pyjamas since I have a crush on sweet home wear, but with pink hearts all over there is no doubt what it is. Even most extravagant fashion style could not hide that. Not that I have such.
He looks me up and down and comments.

A guy who always smells good and is not a midget and hat a cat. I mean, he has a cat!
And is not one of those guys with cats, having bear belly and stained sweatpants as a day in and day out outfit and are all cuddly and zero sexy kind of a guy. Nope.
This one is groomed (not like over groomed, just properly maintained), well dressed and has a cat.
Last time I met him, my hair looked like I put my fingers (all of them) in the socket, I had an ugly shirt on and dropped – by getting my mails – a gift for a friend, a dildo. But again he saw it.
He was amused, very amused.
Dear karma, please think twice next time, o.k.?
Let me wear something of this and just ignore me every time I have pyjamas on outside my home.