…are in the wrong profession. My husband should have been a professor. The absent-minded kind. Have you noticed that the shirts I make for my DH do not have a pocket? Observe why below:
Yes, that is a big blob of ink. Evidently initially he thought his pocket was on his arm, and after realizing that error, tried to get the pen into his chest pocket. Failed to realize the top was off the pen on both counts.
Next potential problem with making custom shirts for a man who smoke cigars:
Sigh. He has not irrevocably damaged any of the shirts I have made for him – yet. But I know it is just a matter of time. When it happens, I am going to try to remember that I pulled the sleeve out of a dress my mom made for me AND ripped half the skirt off on the FIRST DAY I wore it. Evidently I was having a little too much fun on the playground. Caveat: I was in the sixth grade, and my DH is <theoretically> a GROWN MAN.