Drawing the line in the sand.

I don't dress to impress when I'm walking the dogs. I wear baggy sweats, a puffy purple coat.

When I garden, I can be found knee deep in dirt (and sometimes worse) in those same baggy sweats, or baggy shorts on hot days.

Painting, when possible, is done in the garage with the door open. My painting outfit consists of a t-shirt and sweat pants that I bought in 1993. Somehow, no matter how much weight I've gained, they're still baggy; but the pants have shrunk a good 3-4 inches. Those pants have seen me through painting 2 houses and everything in them; and they have the multicoloured splotches of dried paint to show for it.

On laundry day, it's not unheard of to find me outside hanging clothes on the line while wearing my pj's. (The fence is 6' high, but that doesn't mean that my neighbours don't have back decks.)

Knowing all that, maybe somebody can explain to me why I went two days without milk this weekend because I didn't have appropriate pants to wear. My laundry was either dirty or hanging to dry, so all I had was sweat pants, or plaid flannel pj bottoms to wear. For some reason, I couldn't bring myself to wear either of them to the Macs store down the road.

The mall, I can understand - but MACS?!? I'm not sure what caused the ingrained rule of not looking like a slob when going into public to kick in; but it was holding strong.






I wonder if I'd walked the dogs to the Macs store, and left them outside while I went in to get some milk, if I'd have been able to bring myself to do it while wearing my sweatpants?

Too bad I didn't think of that yesterday.