pameladean

I had planned to return to LJ with something more impressive, but that trick never works. Anyway, Emily said I should post something ridiculous to make up for thinking I should post something meaningful.

This is not about any of the actually important things you might think it is about.

It's about pockets. Samuel Delany was surprised by this aspect of women's clothing, though no woman would have been, in the 1960's, but while things have improved, they are not right to this day. I have completely stopped buying pants that do not have at least four pockets. I will not at this time regale you with the incredibly stupid array of useless arrangements that go by the name of "women's cargo pants." I ended up, at David's suggestion, getting men's cargo pants and having them hemmed to my very short inseam length. In any case, I do not buy pants without pockets. But this does not mean that the pockets are adequate. I have a really nice pair of caramel-colored jeans with capacious side pockets -- really nice! Keys and cellphone do not poke me in the hip bone when I sit down! But their back pockets are tiny. My wallet falls out periodically on the floors of public restrooms and at home, too, though the latter is much less distressing. So I don't wear these pants if I plan to use a public restroom, and though I got them originally for hiking -- the color shows ticks and does not show mud -- I don't use them for that either, the floors of state-park vault toilets being sometimes in a condition you don't want to have to pick anything up from.

I hate shopping for clothes and mostly do it online, where they do not tell you the dimensions of the pockets; otherwise I would not have these pants. However, they were cheap and I was seduced by the color and the comfort of them. Regardless of my weight, my waist-to-hip ratio is not standard and most pants don't fit me properly. These do.

It's not worth it, though. I put these pants on this morning because I wasn't planning to leave the house. I just needed to clean for the Minn-Stf meeting. I decided not to even put the wallet in a back pocket and thus save myself the retrieving of it from bathroom floors. Then I discovered that the wringing mechanism on the ten-year-old string mop had broken. I rushed off to the hardware store to get either a new mop or a new mop head, only to recall just in time that I had no wallet in my inadequate pocket.

I came home and sulked. I am going to clean something else. Do not attempt to eat off of the floor tomorrow, if you are coming to the meeting. Whether it has been mopped will depend on how mad I am in what direction.

Pamela