Said my sister, as I finished another long clothing consult via IM. However, the consult had done nothing, clothes-wise, to assure her sucess in this evening. Since apparel disaster seemed imminent, I told her I would dash over promptly after work to make sure she was in the best of shape.

I had tried to discuss outfit possibilities online, only to be met with negative comments and discouragement. Being the good sister that I am, I was not in the least thwarted. If I had a second date with Mr. Perfect, I would at the very LEAST be nervous about what to wear. You have to live up to whatever you wore the first time. Oh, the horror! Oh, the mental agony! Oh, the terror!

After work, I raced home and collected exactly three shirts, one skirt and one jacket. I had, in reserves, all the clothes on my body. Knowing full-well they could be drafted at any moment to dress her. You have to understand, when preparing for a hot date, anyone and anything can be drafted. You are allowed to snatch whatever you need, away from the sisters. Unless, of course, they too are on their way to a hopefully romantic evening. Since my dating karma has been rather sour as of late, there was no worries that I might be headed for such a event.

I laid out my wares. We discussed. I directed. She pouted. We deliberated. I ironed. She modeled. I disapproved. She stripped. I selected. She dressed. I inspected. She stripped. I stripped. Finially, she had the perfect outfit. Except I was now naked and shivering in the living room. All for a good cause.

After I assured myself she was perfectly dressed, perfectly groomed and perfectly at ease. But not before she could profusely thank me and assure me that "if I ever get married! It will entirely be your fault."

I know she meant that as a compliment. Right?!