We're redoing our kitchen and I was busy sorting through papers while standing at the kitchen table when a knock came at the door. Scott was going home teaching so I already knew it was his partner, both men still in their Sunday best. I talked to our neighbor, found a photo of his daughter, handed it to him, and he and Scott walked out the door. I finished that pile and began making rolls. Halfway through adding flour it suddenly occurred to me to check to make sure I was wearing pants. For split second, I panicked before I affirmed that I was, indeed wearing pants.
It's Sunday. It's not like I'm going anywhere or anything. I can take off my pants.
This is a particularly relevant thought process after my incident this morning. Scott had already taken the kids to church and I figured I should put on clothes to go to church. I knew I bought a blouse and a belt yesterday and it was still in the car in the garage. In my underwear, I found that the garage door was open. It was a judgment based on probability and statistics. 85% of my neighborhood go to church at the same time. It was a couple of minutes after the hour meaning that possibly 10% were running late. My street is laden with punctual people. There was a >1% chance anybody would drive past my house and see my underwear clad body dashing out to the car in the garage.
Then there is Murphy's Law. A pedestrian walking down the street, trailing a toddler. I still may have gotten away with it if I hadn't let out an expletive.
Hence, today I am wearing pants
It's Sunday. It's not like I'm going anywhere or anything. I can take off my pants.
This is a particularly relevant thought process after my incident this morning. Scott had already taken the kids to church and I figured I should put on clothes to go to church. I knew I bought a blouse and a belt yesterday and it was still in the car in the garage. In my underwear, I found that the garage door was open. It was a judgment based on probability and statistics. 85% of my neighborhood go to church at the same time. It was a couple of minutes after the hour meaning that possibly 10% were running late. My street is laden with punctual people. There was a >1% chance anybody would drive past my house and see my underwear clad body dashing out to the car in the garage.
Then there is Murphy's Law. A pedestrian walking down the street, trailing a toddler. I still may have gotten away with it if I hadn't let out an expletive.
Hence, today I am wearing pants
I too hate wearing pants. My solution to be comfortable and not running around in my underwear? Pajamas! Baggy, comfy pajamas. I assure you it is much less embarrassing to be seen in pj's than in your g's. :)
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