I've finally taken the dive...and bought new pants. Not a big deal, you say, yet it's a rare day that I get clothes, but most especially rare when I get pants. For, I'd have to say, two years I've had the very same ones (only three pair) and after so many washings, dryings, fallings down the steps as I'm am prone, they've begun to look more like old loincloths rather than pants. It's nice to have (two!) new pair that you can't see my undies through.

There's an oddity to them, however, and one that has (is, really) taken some getting used to. They are button fly, and I've never had such pants. You'd not believe how long it took me to get them done up the first try, but let's just say it made me late for whatever it was I would have originally been early for.

Despite my incompetence with them (just one more thing to add to the list, so no big deal I suppose), I really like them for some reason. I was told I'd like them a while back when I said I'd never wear such clothing, but here I am, unable to button them up, yet pleased. Maybe that's why.

They have, however, almost been my undoing (no pun). Twice now I've barely managed to loosen their vise-like grip before I had a portable toilet. They've also lead to a few (well, one thus far) embarrassing incidents.

During a seemingly very long stretch of class this eve, I decided it was well time to head to the restroom after hours of not heading there. Well, I did my thing and was ready to rejoin the class, but first came the burdensome task of rebuttoning. Now, I have a hard enough time working with shirt buttons that I can see, let alone pant buttons I cannot. Especially in stressful situations, which is what a visit to the men's room always is. It's like a low quality Indiana Jones film, where rather than dodging rolling boulders you're dodging falling urine stalactites.

At any rate, being alone in the privy, I figured I'd get a good look at the task at hand, saving myself a little struggle and/or toil. I was bent in half trying to get a peak (with my shirt held by my chin) and it ended up looking as if I was trying to button the pants with my teeth, or doing other nasty things if your mind goes that way. Or like I was Prince. As my luck would have it, into the bathroom no one ever goes in, someone went.

Around the corner he came, and he saw me, and I him, and our eyes locked in a fierce battle of pretending the other wasn't there. The expression on his face was unmistakable; his mind was repeating "I'm not seeing this!" as mine was repeating "he's not seeing this!" I didn't hear that sound everyone makes when they act like they are going in reverse, but I should have, because he did a step by step rewind of his steps into that dismal place before the door had even slammed shut. I predict it will be many, many moons before he ventures into the abandoned restroom in which these events took place, and as many before I can reliably button these damn pants. I think I'm just going to start leaving them open and wearing really long shirts from now on.

devolve | evolve