Coming insideout in sympathy

After some upsetting writing-related news yesterday, I found myself feeling not quite right. I got up in the night, unable to sleep, and put my underpants on insideout. When I later discovered this I left them like that; insideout underpants fit my mood rather well, I decided.

Later, I discovered my jumper had been on insideout all day too, again without my noticing, much less anyone else noticing (all male house mates), though the dark red seams are chunky and knotted like varicose veins. Clearly I hadn't bothered with a mirror.

It's strangely comforting to be insideout, and as it's a lazy bad-weather Saturday, I haven't had to take my insideout self outside yet, which simplifies things for the neighbours.

Still, I wonder about this rash of insideoutness. Although I am a little vague by nature, and frequently upset by this, that and the other, I normally manage to put most items on outside out and inside in. So why two items insideout in one day? Perhaps, I consider, my body knows my brain suffers and is coming out, or rather insideout, in sympathy?

I decide I rather like this idea; it's far preferable to the alternative -- I'm losing my mind, one or two items of clothing at a time, and will soon be resorting to yoga. Ommmmmm...... (or should that be Moooooooo.....).