I went to go put some laundry in the wash and as there were dirty towels all over the floor in front of the machine I decided to put them in the hamper where they belong when lo and behold… THE PANTS! were there in the mix!!
These pants… are like your man’s nasty recliner chair from his single days. You know, the beat up, duct taped, smelly, ugly thing he watches football in? That’s these pants. Once upon a time they were a nice pair of corduroys. Brown, small nap, great for Sunday and/or casual wear. But the knee… OH, THE KNEE!!! Honey has this one knee. And in each and every single pair of pants he owns, a hole will inevitably appear in that knee. This amazing feat of destruction has passed on to our oldest son, B, who eerily has the same problem with THE SAME KNEE!!!
Back to the pants.
I told B to throw those pants away. It’s not the smiley kind of hole that could be sewn or patched in desperation, it’s the suicidal hole. The one that evicerates the whole leg from stem to stern. He insisted on keeping them for wearing around the house or working in (HA!), and as he does his own laundry I could not find a way to spirit them away to the big, black garbage can that goes out on Mondays.
Did I mention that today is Monday? And that I found the pants? Alone, and unguarded?