Thursday, November 7, 2013

Wanna come to a no-pants party?

Today's Topic: Your favorite "weird/funny single behavior." Anything that is uniquely you and that living alone allows you to do.

I don't wear pants. No, for real, I don't wear pants. Ever. I really think the most difficult part about the last 3 months of not having my own place has been that when I get home from work, I have had to put on sweat pants.

I come home from work and tend to shed clothing in a trail from the front door all the way to my bedroom. I leave my purse and keys at the front door, kick my shoes off in the entryway, have usually taken my top off in or around the living room, always leave my bra in the hallway, and shed my pants in my room, practically tripping out of them as I walk to the closet. I pull on a tee shirt or a hoodie (depending on the weather), put on a pair of clean socks, and head back out to the living room to feed Juno, make dinner, and turn the TV on. In a hoodie. And socks. And panties. But never in pants.

On a side note, when I'm drunk, this "making a trail" of clothes extends much further...on a recent birthday, I found my earrings in the freezer several days later, and my necklace in the window sill. It's like I wander around aimlessly shedding everything I'm wearing.

Anyway, back to the story...

My electric bill takes the brunt of this strange behavior, as I am almost always freezing cold. I turn the heat up instead of putting pants on, because that's how much I hate wearing pants. I snuggle up under a big blanket on the couch with Juno, because that's how much I hate wearing pants.

I don't know where or when this started happening. I have never been a big fan of jeans; in high school, I rocked dance pants to school almost daily, and getting me to put on a nice pair of jeans was like a huge triumph. I never put jeans on at home. And I mean, never. I obviously wear jeans out, and wear dress slacks to work, but on the evenings that I have friends over or a family dinner, I always shed them and pull on my comfies. I guess maybe I just like to be cozy. And the most cozy I can be is, in my panties and a shirt, with no pants on.

I suppose that when I do finally meet someone who wants to live with me, the no pants thing could do one of two things. Either my guy will take it as a nightly invitation for after-work-but-before-dinner sex, or he'll think I'm a nut and will just laugh at me. Either way, I will have turned the heat up high enough that he'll get hot and have to take his pants off too.

So look at pants. I win.