I miss you. I miss writing. So, I’m back.
Without going into incredible detail, here’s the crib notes version of what has gone on since we last spoke:
- Started new job in January.
- Worked like a dog.
- Company went belly-up in March.
- Spent a couple weeks cleaning my closets, cooking yummy dinners, taking long walks, zipping over to the local library, browsing real estate ads, watching Oprah, collecting unemployment (Now available online!!!), planning a fundraiser…oh, and searching for a new job.
- Started new gig a few weeks ago for ½ the pay but 100x more personal satisfaction.
OK, onwards and up words.
At a loss for anything terribly poignant to say, here’s what’s on my mind.
My Ex Boyfriend’s Jammies
I can’t tell if they’re underwear or men’s jammies. (You make the call. See photo – “Undies” gallery.) In my younger days, I worked in Manhattan. Often, I would visit him after work at his cool, swingin’ Brooklyn bachelor pad. (At the time, I lived with my parents. As such, I would have probably considered a rat-infested cesspool in Camden the height of coolness and sophistication. So, let’s not give him too much credit. Shall we?) Rather than lounge around in my suit, he would give me an old t-shirt and this pair of shorts to sit around in while chowed down on some Italian takeout while watching Angel on the WB.
Post-breakup he bogarted some of my stuff including (mysteriously!) some underwear. Despite two pleas by e-mail to hand over the purloined goods to either me or the Salvation Army, he never delivered. So, I guiltlessly kept his jammies made of smooshy, gushy waffle-knit cotton.
One time while prancing around our place wearing my breakup bootie, J asked me, “So where did you get those ugly shorts?” I told him. He wasn’t particularly moved. I think he was just happy I scored something for free.
Over the years, they’ve become my favorite summertime loungewear. So, now that the weather’s getting hot, I put them back into the clothing rotation.
However, I was terribly sad to discover that extended wear has stretched the elastic waistband beyond repair. So, unless I put on 50+ pounds, I must roll the waistband three times over to keep them from sliding on to the carpet.
So, here’s the big question: Should I chuck ‘em (while ceremoniously humming “Taps”) or keep ‘em for some twisted sentimental reason…or the fact that I can’t find a suitable replacement?
Hmmm….
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