I Am, Uhh, New Pants Wearing*

It was a typical morning. I had a little trouble getting out of bed, but once I got moving, it was fine. It all began to unravel around 8 a.m. as I tried to get dressed.

8 a.m. I scratch the hell out of my foot on the sharp edge of my jewelry box, which leads me to ponder: 1) Why would someone make a jewelry box with such sharp edges? 2) Shouldn’t the jewelry be cushioned in soft velvet? 3) What the fuck is this jewelry box doing on the floor? I realize that it is just going to be one of those mornings and I will have to live with it. Sigh.

8:03 a.m. With some excitement, I put on my new black linen pants. It’s summer, I hardly have any pants, and linen should be perfect for the heat. They are those kind of pants that you can roll up and keep the roll in place with a little strap that buttons on the outside of the pants. They are too long for me without some rolling, but I decide that I don’t really like them rolled up too short, so I just roll them twice and they look pretty good, so I’m going with that.

8:20 a.m. It’s time to go, but I can’t find my shoes.

8:23 a.m. Shoes located, I run out the door.

8:26 a.m. I’ve made it almost a block down the street when I realize that there is a reason they include those stupid straps on the pants: They don’t stay rolled up on their own. And although I’m not Britney Spears holding a baby in one hand and a “glass of water” (sure, Brits, that’s totally not a vodka and tonic) in the other being followed by the paparazzi, I really don’t want to be wearing pants so long that they make me trip over my own feet. I become irrationally angry about this situation and have to give myself a little pep talk in which I say, “Ok, princess, you can deal with this. It’s no big deal. Just take a deep breath and turn around and go home so you can fix your pants.”

8:32 a.m. Back in my bedroom, I rip the pants off and re-roll them. I realize that they are much shorter than I want to wear them and consider switching outfits, but realize that changing would require picking out a whole new outfit and probably changing all my undergarments, and that will just take too long. I give myself another pep talk in an effort to dissipate my irrational anger.

8:39 a.m. Pants have been readjusted and are back on. As I’m running out the door again, I notice that it’s a little overcast. Wondering if I can get away with carrying just the cute, tiny, compact, light umbrella, I call weather. Thunderstorms predicted, so I grab the big stupid umbrella. Grrr.

8:45 a.m. Walking to work once again, I notice that although these pants are linen, they seem really heavy and feel more like wool. Which is great, since it’s really fucking hot out. Stupid pants.

8:50 a.m. I notice that the linen on these pants is rather rough and feels like burlap rubbing against my legs. Stupid, stupid pants.

9:20 a.m. I arrive at work and see the person walking in 10 feet ahead of me push the button that opens the door automatically. The button has a picture of a wheelchair on it, you know, to indicate that it’s supposed to be for the disabled. This woman was completely able-bodied. Pushing this button when you are not in a wheelchair is pretty stupid because the button is actually 5 or 6 feet away from the door, so you have to walk out of your way, and you have to lean down to press it, since it’s at, you know, wheelchair level. All I wanted to do was scream at the top of my lungs “Are you just that lazy?”

9:50 a.m. On first bathroom trip of the work day, I discover that the tie linen belt provided with the pants is really, really hard to untie, slowing down the whole bathroom process. I hate these stupid fucking pants.

Did I mention that I’m a little grumpy today?

*10 points if you get the reference.