I picked out a pair of pants last night that I haven't worn in 6 months. (Forgot I had them...) I was concerned that they wouldn't fit, so I tried them on last night. They fit.
This morning I got dressed in my usual hurry and glanced at myself several times in the mirror. Something wasn't quite right but I couldn't put my finger on it. I gave up trying and Joey and I were out the door by 7:30.
As soon as we sat down in the car, I crossed my left leg over my right. It was then that I noticed it.
"Joey, there's no hem on the left pant leg!" I wailed.
"Do you have a needle and thread at work?" He asked as he backed out of the parking spot.
"No..." I said, wilting.
So there I was. One pant leg was an inch longer than the other and I was feeling very self conscious all morning. I asked about three people for a sewing kit before I gave up, despondent.
People were offering me all sorts of condolences and helpful ideas. I tried taping the hem but that didn't work at all. Someone also suggested stapling, but considering I am wearing black pants I vetoed that. (I think I would have vetoed it on principle, though, as I can't imagine stapling any of my clothing together, ever.)
To make matters worse, at about 10:30 the clasp that mostly keeps my pants from falling down broke off, and the button is about to go as well. (There was a reason I haven't worn these pants in 6 months, although why they weren't in the mending pile I have no idea.)
Fortunately I had the foresight to grab a safety pin this morning, and that's what's keeping me decent at the moment.
I want to go home.
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