Walking in a white shirt

I'm wearing a white shirt. I found this shirt on a trash can or some such situation. I can't remember exactly. I think it's an undershirt. It has short sleeves - shorter than typical, but not sleeveless or anything. That describes an undershirt, right? It's a tight fit, and it's made by Calvin Klein, so says the tag. My mood is difficult to explain. Vague, bland, aloof, spaced out, mediocre. None of that really captures it. I'm wearing this white shirt with the same intentions I always have in a white shirt. Gettin' dirty. I'm walking away from work. Bike mechanic people get pretty greasy in the hand and shirt area. I always fail at getting properly dirty. I end up a little dusty, but no big greasy stains to show I'm a working man. I'm just a man who can't figure out laundry. It's hot out, and I'm feeling a little greasy and salty on the skin. I'm walking in the roundabout direction of the shower at Steve's. I don't necessarily feel like hanging out tonight, but the shower is there and I'm planning to use it. Part of me wants the shower, and part of me just doesn't know where else to walk at this moment.