Evidently I don’t. At least not before I leave for work. (And if my colleagues have ever noticed bad hair or the occasional mis-matched sock, they’ve been too polite to say anything about it.)
There are presently just two mirrors in The Penthouse-Nordic. One is in the bathroom and is invariably fogged up from my morning shower. The other is a narrow full-length model that’s attached to one of the doors on Dr. Darling‘s free-standing wardrobe that sits in a corner of our bedroom.
Thank God for the mirror in the elevator, because otherwise I would have ended up at my office yesterday with no prosthetic eye and no eye-patch to cover the empty socket…meaning I would have had to spend the day in a perpetual wink. (I wonder if my co-workers would have noticed that?)