Topless telework

 Any of the people who walk their dogs on the street by my windows might have wondered the other day why some guy is diligently working at his desk without a shirt. I did have a fleece around me, but it was falling off.

The answer, as usual, involves freaking Friedreich's ataxia.

I use a bidet, which sounds luxurious but saves me from trying to stand and clean myself off.

Unfortunately, I also feel very poorly. Water shooting onto me (unless it is cold, which causes other problems. Consider it, icy water hitting your rear?) or my foot slipping forward, for instance.

So there I was: using the bidet when my foot starts slipping forward. I didn't notice the bidet wasn't hitting the right spot until I glanced down and saw my foot had slid forward till my leg was almost straight.

The bidet, instead of doing its job, soaked my shirts.

I managed to remove them and dry my back.

I pulled my foot back.

Then I got back in my chair, washed hands and chose a new shirt to put on.

Instead of putting it on, though, my arms got all tangled up and pulled the shirt inside out.

At this point I decided topless was better.