on oranges

We were asked to wear an orange top for this committee function. Great. Of all colors, it just had to be orange.

Tried visualizing the mess in my closest searching for any resemblance to an orange top. In a pile of blacks and grays and creams and whites, the orange would definitely stand out. I’d remember an orange if I had one. By the meeting’s end, I knew I’d need to borrow or buy an orange top. Scratch borrow. Too much of a hassle. I’d get one. When was the last time I bought a new top? (That’s a good one. The recent purchases were pants.)

Last Saturday, we had the chance to shop for one – quite a number of chances in the past week actually. There was this red orange shirt I was defending as orange to the sisters. The store lighting made the top look like orange. It’s really red. We had this informal survey from the sales lady to the cashier and even the amused store manager if the top was more orange or red. It was red.

I did find a light orange – like a melon – top. Then the eldest sister said it looked more like a peach. The third sister said it’s salmon. At this point, we have spent about an hour in the store, my dislike for orange growing by the minute.

In the end, I did find the last piece of top, salmon, peach, or whatever color that may have looked orange-y. 

Earlier this afternoon, we welcomed the guests with our committee members’ interpretation of “orange”.

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