You’d think with my varied responsibilities that I could get away with wearing the same pair of jeans without encountering any of the same people two days in a row. But not today; I’m heading to the same office as yesterday, and the pants, the pants they are the same.
This used to make me crazy, crazy enough to fill closets with pants and skirts. In fact, I have lots of eligible skirts, but they’re all wrinkled, because I don’t have quite enough skirt hangers, and while the ironing board is now set up right in the middle of the living room I haven’t quite gotten around to using it, other than as a resting place for clean laundry. I could buy more jeans, if I could make more time, if I didn’t bail from shopping errands when parking becomes a drag, if I really just cared more about the jeans and the skirts and the clothes, which I did used to care about. Like I said, it made me crazy, once.
Because when I was 13, the absolute worst age for a girl to have to wear the same pair of jeans two days in a row, I didn’t have enough pants and skirts to make it through the week. Although then it was pants, really — I wore pants: the skirts weren’t cute until high school. Then, I only had 4 pairs of pants, which meant I had to recycle one pair during the week, which took lots of planning as it was 8th grade and some classes met every day and others didn’t, so then it wasn’t so much that no one would see the doubled-up pair of pants as simply minimizing the exposure without repeating the pattern enough to get noticed, because getting noticed for something like not enough pants in 8th grade would have been just about the worst thing ever, other than all those other worst things ever, which there was, honestly, a really long paradeful of when I was 13.
Did I mention that, of my 4 pairs of pants, one was bright yellow?
This was of course my own doing. Like a crow, I am drawn to the shiny. But when faced with an inadequate supply of pants, a BRIGHT YELLOW pair is an added complication.
Today, my jeans are not yellow. But it’s possible they’re coming off. Maybe there’s something clean that I overlooked — time to go check the ironing board.
