When I get ready in the morning, I don’t always connect the dots. I have to get myself cleaned up, get dressed, grab my lunch and grab my coffee before I hit the road.

Oh, and I need to talk to my wife a little bit. All of this takes place at or before 6 a.m. so I can never guarantee complete success.

I still leave my coffee sitting in the kitchen once in a while. Or I completely forget to fill up my travel mug. Those problems sometimes require a detour to grab coffee from a convenience store, but I sometimes don’t notice until I’m so far off the beaten path that I just need to soldier on and get my caffeine in the office.

I have done a better job over the years at not forgetting my lunch because few things ruin a day at the office more than knowing an awesome lunch sits in the fridge at home.

The getting dressed thing usually comes together with no problems. I might forget to wear a belt on occasion, but don’t have that formal of a workplace so that doesn’t matter much.

What does make a difference is when I do all of these things perfectly, but don’t really think about how Option A affects Decision B. I don’t notice those problems until it’s too late, like when I sat down for lunch at my desk a couple of weeks ago.

I had made my lunch the night before, throwing some leftover pasta into a microwaveable container with some sauce and frozen meatballs. That sounded like a delicious option, and I eagerly sat down a little after noon. That’s when I noticed the problem.

I wore a white shirt to work that day. The ramifications of this decision never crossed my mind as I got dressed. As I said, this is before 6 a.m. so I don’t always take the time to think about how much lunch might affect my wardrobe.

Marinara sauce has had a checkered past with my clothing. My wife once made me take off a white button-down I wore to work when I started to sit down at the table for dinner that night. She has seen what can happen.

Stuck at work with no backup wardrobe, I used a little extra care while eating. I paid closer attention to my surroundings as I twirled the pasta and cut the meatballs. In the end, I made it through the whole meal without spilling anything on my chest.

I felt vindicated. I wanted to shout it from the rooftops. I overcame my morning inattention to avoid walking around the entire afternoon with pasta stains on my shirt. I have had to do that before. It’s no fun.

A couple of days later I made a fantastic dinner from leftover taco meat and some tortillas we had in the fridge. As I prepared to sit down and dig in, I took a second glance at the white sweater I put on that morning. I thought for a moment before taking it off.

I tempted fate once that week. I didn’t like the odds of making it through another meal without a disaster.