May 29, 2013: Wet Jeans
|The first pair...completely wet. The second pair...half wet from a neighboring towel.|
A life lesson for Zach: Put your clothes in the dryer before bed. My life lesson on this matter was when I was six or seven years old. In my instance, the culprit was a wet pair of corduroys. And I wet them.
I had to go to the bathroom so badly and we were far from home; playing at the Remsen cemetery. I guess I should explain the cemetery issue first. We really did play at the cemetery. It served as an outdoor history lesson of sorts to us.
We would often go to the rectory and Fr. Birdsall would pull out the plot records and tell us names and family lineages to various plots. My friends and I would explore for hours; reading the names on the tombstones that were familiar and then later asking about the ones that weren't.
On the particular day of note, I stayed too long at our graveyard playground. The walk home was long; at least ten city blocks. When I got to the point of not being able to hold my bladder anymore, I wet my pants.
It was instant relief and actually felt warm and a bit comforting. No big deal, my little girl mind thought. I would just change when I got home. That thought lasted about two minutes. Then the warm wet turned cold, very cold. And it itched and my wet corduroy thighs rubbed together. I was miserable. It was a long walk home. I never wet my pants again.
Zach's wet jeans stayed on for less than a minute before he figured out this was a bad choice.The jeans went in the dryer and we went to Plan B. He compromised by temporarily wearing a pair of golf pants. I ran him his appropriate work attire of jeans an hour later. I was glad he waited for them to dry. A worthwhile trip.