My only pair of sweatpants. My beloved pair of sweatpants. The pants I spent way more money than is reasonable for pants on (still less than that pair of yoga pants you bought last weekend, reader). My soft heather gray friend. I did not see you for three months at least. I mourned your loss. I had thought you were mixed up in my brothers laundry. Hiding in the depths of a t-shirt drawer or a closet shelf. Or worse yet, that you had accidentally been given to Savers, and you were now being worn by a bargain shopper (such as myself, but not myself). You were depraved the opportunity of seeing Ireland. I could not find you, I tore my room apart for you, but I had not worn you for two months at least. I gave up for the time. Tonight I realized how much I needed you, and how irreplaceable you were to me (also how cheap I was). I asked the boys if you had made your way into their storage. You hadnt. I again, tore apart my room. I looked in all the same places. Places you should be. In a moment of desperation I grabbed my winter blankets. My crocheted quilt. My electric blanket. My electric blanket. There you were. Folded into the blanket that I only needed for the coldest nights. I screeched. I really did. Dale Fishman will attest. Reunited. My pants. My expensive, cozy, ridiculous pants.
Posted on: Tue, 19 Aug 2014 00:08:05 +0000
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