I've never understood irony or how to determine what is ironic. I could never follow the critizism of How Ironic. So if this isn't ironic, I apologize upfront to those who know.
I've been working on this plaid dress, staying up until midnight, working on it at work during lunch, trying to have it done for this weekend. We haven't seen temperatures below 75 in months, so this light weight cotton would be perfect. It wasn't my best work; I rushed too much on it and just thought I'd wear it and fix it after the event.
Well the gods of self-respect have thrown a lightening bolt and said "Oh no mortal, you shall not settle for barely good enough. It shall be cold this weekend!!" It won't even reach 70 on Saturday. Soooo...I get to wear a wool I will probably not get too wear too often here in Texas.
So instead of frantically sewing and stressing that the dress won't be wearable and it won't be as well done as I know it could be, I will spend the evening making sure I have everything ready for tomorrow, packing things up, etc. The gods have spoken. It may not be irony, but probably exactly what I need.