The Inside Is Outside

The Inside Is Outside and I Cannot Find the Door. So went a “poem” that one of my college roommates claimed one of his former roommates wrote for a class assignment. That’s it, that’s the entire poem. You gotta love the 60s, right?

But I was reminded of the poem today when after my wife gave me a haircut, I shook out my (otherwise clean) black pull-over shirt in the shower stall, even turning it inside out to shake out any loose hairs. Then I put it aside while I showered, shaved and dressed. I apparently forgot to turn it back right side out because when I went back downstairs my wife pointed out that I was wearing it inside out. “Your seams are showing,” she stated matter-of-factly. After confirming she was totally correct (she usually is), my only possible response was “That’s the story of my whole life!”