"Where in the hell are my pants?" I asked. She smiled sweetly and shrugged. She couldn't find them either amidst my pile of clothes. Figures... when you need pants the most, you got none.
Now I've had awkward moments on the road but.... wait a tick, lemme back up just a bit.
We've been in the throes of chaos since we walked the final mile in Boston late June - Within weeks, Murphy's diagnosis came followed by four weeks of radiation therapy and a brief trip to Texas to visit my family.
While there I stopped by my storage unit in San Antonio that has most of my worldly possessions. Not knowing precisely when I'd return, I grabbed everything I might need for the coming months and, more importantly, that'd fit in Mommy G's Miata which I was driving at the time.
Among the things I stuffed into her Mazda; my golf bag which oh, God I missed (I tried ernestly to carry my seven iron cross country but it never made it outta Walter E. Long Park), my kilt ('Ello, 'Ello, 'Ello, luv), as many CDs I could cram into small spaces, my Conan the Barbarian coat (oh, yeah - wait til you see pics), and my suit bag since I planned on attending the APDT awards ceremony.
From TX I picked up the boys in Memphis and went on a goodwill tour that took us from Bowling Green KY, Louisville, Cincinnati, Columbus, Pittsburgh, Buffalo and Vermont then back down to Boston, Jersey City, and then onto Richmond. We were cutting it close and I only had one day in Virginia to get my suits cleaned and move on to Atlanta to receive our APDT award.
Our travels have never been without strife but to the best of my knowledge, they've never been pantless. Er, intentionally anyway. Apparently, I neglected to check my suit bag back in San Antonio and had I did, I would've discovered that it was jackets 4; slacks 0.
"What kinda guy separates the two?" Standing at the cleaner's counter I half chastised myself and half wondered what I did with them. It'd been over two years since I stowed everything in SA and we set out on our adventure so I came up well short on both questions.
"Where does one buy pants in Richmond anyway?", I asked the lady at the counter.
To be continued...
3 comments:
Hey Luke! You can always wear your kilt, instead of pants! LOL! Seriously though, we're all sending continued love & prayers to you & the Boys!
Robbin, Kerry, Chief, Ranger, Maddy, & Luna Sneddon
Funny -- That's just what I asked Ginger ... what kinda guy packs his pants separate from his suit jackets? Don't feel bad. I had to buy a new suit for my Dad's funeral and didn't notice until we were at the graveside that they'd shortened one pant leg a good inch shorter than the other. I had to stand on the hill by his grave in such a way that my pants legs would look even. I knew I'd never wear that suit again, but honestly -- I never thought to check until there I was, a fashion nightmare. Well, at least my socks matched. BTW, I think the kilt idea was a good one.
OOPS!
HUGS,
Georgia
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