I can’t recollect, but it must have been Friday the 13th; otherwise, how could so many successive annoying little incidents possibly have happened?
It was a complete wardrobe malfunction!
I woke up just as dawn was breaking; there was a dull red glow in the eastern sky. I reached for my glasses, which I usually perch on top of the latest book I am reading on the bedside set of drawers. They weren’t there.
How do you find your glasses, which you need to see while finding them? I fumbled and I eventually found them. They had slid beyond and under a rack of books that are also on the bedside dresser.
As usual, my next reach was for my visor. It is a necessary signature evil that I use to counteract the glare of cross lighting on my slightly tinted lenses. It was not on the bedpost at the foot of the bed where I usually, dead ringer, toss it. I must have overshot. But it was not there on the floor either.
I found myself down on my knees reaching for it midway under the bed. I suspect its placement was house cat-assisted.
The next challenge was a pair of summer socks that didn’t match; this I didn’t notice until I had them both on. Well to heck with them, it’s going to rain, I’ll be wearing rubber boots and nobody will notice. I was soon thereafter to recognize that the shirt I was putting on had an extra button on the top of one side with an extra buttonhole at the bottom of the other side. This was not the first time this happened, and I suspect it will not be the last; nevertheless, it was annoying.
I then reached for what places all males worldwide with a common denominator. All put their pants on one leg at a time. This morning mine happened to be a pair of 32/42 denim blue jeans. Neat-fitting, but a little too tight at the waist. Not to worry though, I had punched an additional hole in my belt to give the well sewn-on button additional support.
But then it happened – the zipper refused to zip. I thought about giving it a good yank or two, but I recalled an occasion not long after the Little Lady and I had wed. My zipper had responded to a good yank by biting in an area not commonly exposed, and I had to request her help to get me out of the situation. She had many a good chuckle about that, suggesting that perhaps she should put buttons on my pants.
Then I remember my mother spraying zippers with the three per cent hydrogen peroxide solution. She used it also on her sewing machine. Believe me, folks, it worked then and it works now. My zipper now works.
Take care, ’cause we care.
barrie@barriehopkins.ca
519-986-4105