Thursday, March 5, 2015

Are Those New Pants?






Are Those New Pants?
                       By Judy

It was a long, very, very long time, but I walked on the treadmill for a full forty-five minutes. Some mornings I quit after only thirty minutes. Those days I have time to share conversation and drink a cup of coffee with my physically-fit gym friends. There was no time for chit-chat that morning, though. I grabbed a quick cup of coffee and headed to the locker room to change out of my black, well-worn, five-year-old sweat pants and tee-shirt into my good dress pants and a sweater. I didn’t want to be late for work.

I had carefully packed my gym bag the night before. Packing the evening before allowed me five extra minutes of sleep. I needed rest for the long day. After work I planned to attend a program at our local library. There would not be an opportunity to drive the five miles home and back between work and going to the library. I wanted to attend a special service at church after the library presentation, too. I hoped I got home before 8:00 P.M.

I had put one of my warmest sweaters in my gym bag. The temperature was not to be above twenty degrees that day. Just to be safe, I packed a couple of extra shirts to wear under my sweater and some leggings to wear under my slacks. My heaviest wool socks and high top boots had been the first items in my gym bag. After I packed the bag, I arranged my gym clothes in a stack so I could dress quickly the following morning. Arriving at the gym before 7:00 in the morning doesn’t happen naturally for me. Effort, above and beyond, is required.

I went to bed confident I was prepared for the next day. After I read a couple of chapters of a light-hearted novel with a main character who led a life not remotely similar to mine in any manner, I fell asleep. I dreamed I, like the main character in the novel I was reading, was enjoying a warm, sunny afternoon at the beach. In my dream, George Clooney and I were discussing Dish Satellite vs. Direct TV. (I have no idea how we got on that topic.)  Certainly, though, my last thoughts that night were not of the clothing I packed for the next day.

The next morning, still slightly weak from my journey on the treadmill and before I inhaled a cup of black coffee, I opened my gym bag and placed my clothing on the bench in the locker room. Boots, socks, shirts, sweater, leggings, slacks…wait…slacks…where were my slacks? The nice gray ones that matched my warm gray sweater? The ones I washed the night before and hung in the laundry room to dry? Laundry room?  Laundry room…yes, that’s where they were.

I checked my watch. There was not enough time to drive home and back without being late to work. I called my husband, “Sorry, dear, I’m already at the office. No, I have an early appointment. There’s no way…,” he replied to my begging voice.

I tried to slip in the back door of the office. I hoped to get to my desk unnoticed.

“Are those new slacks?” one of my co-workers asked. “I like the faded black look. They kind of look the color of sweat pants after they’ve been washed weekly for five years.”

“Are those new slacks?” a friend at the library event asked. “They seem pretty baggy. They kind of have the form sweat pants take on after they’ve been washed weekly for five years.”

“Are those new slacks?” my daughter asked after evening church services. “Didn’t you used to have some sweat pants that sort of looked like them?”

“Gosh, it’s been a long day, and I know you left the house before daylight this morning. How about we go out for dinner?” my husband asked after church services.

“Sure, why not?” I answered.

“Are those new slacks?” my husband asked.

My steak was good, very, very good.





No comments:

Post a Comment