My pants are afire!
Then yesterday I sewed them together in long long long strips. I kept envisioning a red, white and grey shirting between the rows. And I liked it. But I kept thinking that the weight of the fabric shirts would be far too light for the heavier denim panting. I guess that is a word. Shirting is what shirts are made from. Panting just follows, right?
He is walking around in his skivvies, something really unusual for my formal conservative husband. Going from room to room wandering aimlessly. He constantly looks for his keys and phone and wallet. I smile wondering which one he is looking for now.
As he wanders in to the kitchen, he drops the bombshell: where are the pants I handed you to fix?
Fix? I say. Realization hitting me that he was not quite ready to give up those pants just yet. I fixed them, I say -- spreading my hands out in a Vanna White wave toward the strips on the floor.
His face looks like that guy on the phone commercial where the girl jumps up and screams at the spider ap on his screen and the other guy beats his phone with the shoe. Yep, just like that.