I have two pants stories. I just thought I’d share them with you.
Sooooo…I was gardening yesterday. Which is something I never do. At least, here in the States. Gardening was easy in SA where dear old Elson dug the holes pulled up the weeds and did the dirty work and I did all the fun stuff.
I am trying to pull out the asparagus fern in our front yard to put the lovely plants from the neighbor there instead (before they die from root exposure :-D). So, armed with a pair of the boys’ snow gloves (um…I don’t have garden gloves) I tackled that fern. I didn’t last long before I wished that Elson was here. The asparagus fern’s thorns pricked me right through the thick, padded gloves (I pulled a thorn out with tweezers this morning). And then I started feeling a burning, itching sensation on my leg. Soon I felt itchy all over. My wonderful imagination told me I had touched some poison ivy and I could just picture myself breaking out all over and going to church looking like a freak.
So I came inside.
I must have been inside for more than 15 minutes when I thought I felt another thorn pricking me on my derriere. I tried to reach it but it pricked my hand. Then it was in an altogether different spot. Still thinking it was a thorn, I managed to get my hand pricked another time. This is the point where my pants came off…fast!!! It was a wasp. The thing must have stung me about 7 times. With a cry of: “Die, you bastard!”, I sent him to eternity. Well, not quite, the carpet was too soft and so was Jenna’s slipper with which I tried to squish him. I managed to immobilise him and take him outside to be lizard food.
Today I took a box full of books to our local homeschool association’s annual book sale. I was wearing my favorite pair of pants, some well-loved and oft-washed corduroys. You guessed it. I bent to pick up the box and felt and heard the pants rip. I was surrounded by other people, one sweet lady tried to see if the damage was embarassingly obvious. She couldn’t see it, but to be on the safe side I had to walk a bit funny. I was also afraid to bend over at the tables to fill in the consent forms so I stood dead straight, with my arm extended all the way whilst doing it. I think the lady who was receiving my books thought I was a bit batty.
I am thankful that it wasn’t a huge, top-to-bottom, underwear-exposing rip, but I am sad about the demise of my corduroys. They will be sadly missed.