Callithump Thunderblog

With 15 minutes to go before a massage appointment, I discovered my pants had split open in the back- a sizable rip, one that could not be ignored, an 8 or 9 inch split that was growing larger with each movement I made.  This grand canyon of rips could not be remedied using office supplies like scotch tape, for instance, despite my best efforts.  I needed new pants and I needed them immediately, so I RAN to Marshals, which is in the building next door to ours, and grabbed the first pair of yoga pants that I could find, figuring that yoga pants were something I could use anyway and they were stretchy and I had no time to try them on, so even if they didn't fit perfectly, they would at least stay on my body and do as pants are supposed to do- cover what needed covering.

Pants selected, I then waited in a line that turned out to be the one of slowest moving lines in my history of line-waiting, of which I have had considerable experience.  I waited impatiently, all the while  strategically angling my body so that the other line-waiters could not see my back side.  Once purchased, I booked across the parking lot, clutching my bag of emergency pants, abandoning any hopes of covering the rip which was splitting even more as I ran.  After a quick change in the restroom, a look in the mirror confirmed that my outfit was now perfectly hideous, but at least it covered my rear end.  I arrived in the office, sweating profusely, as this happened on THAT day, you remember THAT day earlier this week, when you were positive that the heat was going to kill you?   Sweating, out of breath, price tags hanging off my ill-fitting pants- I was quite the sight, but at least everything was covered, right?

My client, of course, had beaten me to the office and was waiting for her nice relaxing massage.

The pants, for your information, were hand-me-downs.  This was the first (and only) day I wore them. I noticed a tiny tear at the pocket when I put them on, but I didn't think much of it. 


Turns out there is no such thing as a free pair of pants.  Even though my "free" pants ended up costing me, it turned out they were rich in anecdotal value, so in the end, it was completely worth it.