baste-and-bleach.

As soon as I reach for my running shoes, it starts to rain. Not a gentle drizzle, noo... it's pelting down, as if the rain gods are laughing at my attempts to establish a proper exercise regime.
I sigh, withdraw my hand and stare at through window. A half-hearted thought crosses my mind to just brave the weather, and go for it. But my inner Shia laBoeuf  ("just do it!") loses it to my desire to stay warm and dry inside; with a cup of tea and my laptop, writing you all this post.

Baste and dye: the tale of a lost shirt

Once upon a time, a plain green shirt hung on a clothesline in a quiet backyard. It was a cold and windy winterday and there was nobody in sight. The shirt dangled in the wind. But the wind became stronger and stronger, pulling the shirt back and forth until... it finally managed to pull the shirt from the clothesline. It went flying through the air, until it finally landed on top of a pile of wood in the back of the yard. 

There it lie, unseen. days went by...Until, one day the owner of the shirt walked through the garden and saw a glimpse of faded green on top of the pile of wood. She climbed on top of it to investigate it and saw the shirt, faded by sun and wind. She exclaimed " oh my shirt! thou art faded!"