When you work on the night shift, you live your life differently than the "normals". Basically, it is a matter of creating a routine and sticking to it.
Some times Jason has to work the next morning, so he goes to bed before I leave for work. On those nights, I hang my work clothes in the front bathroom so I can change into my scrubs right before I leave the house. (Otherwise I go to work covered in cat fur, even with my newly acquired Dyson vacuuming habit, you can get cat fur on you just by driving by my house.)
Sunday night, I am, per my routine, doing my anti-Alzheimer's exercises (playing Spider Solitaire or Bookworm) when I realize that I've let time slip away and it is fifteen minutes before eleven. I rush to the bathroom, brush my teeth, and find this:
That is my bra strap. Chewed in half. I now have ten minutes before my shift begins. It is at least a ten minute drive + walking tour of the entire hospital to get to my unit. Getting another bra will involve turning on lights, waking Jason and a five minute search through the collection of "too small", "too big", "too tight", "makes my boobs look pointy" bras. On the other hand, I did have a tee-shirt to wear under my scrub top since it was going to be below freezing that night. So I went upper commando.
The next morning, I confronted Thor with the evidence.
Thor sez: I'd like a lawyer.