The other day I got home from work (as I often do), and then (as I often do) I changed into some at-home clothes for the evening. You know, the sort of clothes I would never wear outside but keep around the house for comfy evenings-in.

About an hour later the water went out in the apartment, which has happened a few times in the past, so I (as I often do) went downstairs to the apartment below to ask them if they're having the same problem. The downstairs apartment is currently occupied by a single mother and her two sons. The single mother answered the door and I asked her if the water was out in her apartment. She said it was not. She was acting a bit funny - jumpy sorta - but she often is, so I (as I often do) paid it no mind.

About an hour and change later I was taking a piss and I caught a glance of myself in the bathroom mirror, and staring back at me was the answer to my neighbour's jumpy behaviour. In the mirror, my shirt said:

?tnuc tog

And though reading mirror writing is not necessarily my forté, a bell went off in my head.

D'oh!

(This story, and that shirt, are dedicated to Rebecca J. Wood, who definitely does have one.)