Yellah pahntz

Pantz.
Pantz.

Today I am wearing my favorite socks.

Well, one of the pairs of my favorites. They’re Smartwool, purchased special for Spain. They’re cozy and cushy and my feet have been happy all day.

Speaking of Spain, while I was there I didn’t miss home at all. Well, except for one moment. I saw a girl in yellow pants and I knew I had a pair of yellow pants home in Michigan but all I had were grey pants in Spain. And, in that moment, I missed my yellow pants. I think I mentioned this to Carl, but he was perpetually confused by the amounts of feminine fashion we continually barraged him with, so I don’t think he said anything.

This week has been long and full and I woke up today ready to go to work, but not really wanting to be there all day, you know? So. I put on my yellow pants.

It’s been the first time I’ve worn them since returning to the Americas.

I notice they have a stain on the left thigh but, you know, I don’t really care. They’re yellow pants.

And the work has been full of, “Oh, you thought you were done with that project, but we were just tricking you” and on and on.

But! It’s Friday. And I’m wearing yellow pants.

Tonight I’ll probably own this town.

NOT!!

Tonight is the first Friday in a while where I have no engagements, no responsibilities, no commitments.

AND SO I WANT TO CLEAN THE BATHROOM. Not kidding. I want to empty the trash and scrub the tub because the floor of that tub holds dirt on the grippy-part like nobody’s business.

I want to type more of my play. I want to do some ab workouts. I want to chill with Christine.

It is Friday. It is the Feast of my patron, St. Francis of Assisi. It is my half-birthday.

And I am wearing yellow pants.

Happy Feast Day, St. Francis. I love you lots and lots and lots! Pray for me, your kiddo (as I know you do)!

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