At approximately 9:27 AM yesterday I discovered that my pants were unzipped.
In this life, 9:27 is well into my morning. I had showered and dressed (somewhat), made breakfast and packed lunches. I rode in a taxi with the family to school, kissed the husband good-bye, attended a meeting (which included people I had not met before), read two books to 25 fourth grade boys and girls, talked extensively with them about selecting a good biography and then got up and showed them where exactly to find said biography (which included a good deal of walking around, up and down movements, and lots of Carol Merrill type gesturing), checked out the appropriate biographies (which involved sitting, thank God) and then, once the entire class left the library, only then did a discover that my pants were unzipped.
This discombobulated woman thing is sadly becoming part of my daily shtick, and I'd like to assign it a place in my 46 year old dossier but the truth is I've been this disheveled mess for years.
Immediately I whirled around to see my friend Heather, literally doubled over laughing. "No, turn around again!", she went crashing to the floor.
At the front door of the Laura Ashley store, where we both worked, in a huge suburban shopping mall, I stood with my short kilt tucked into the back of my dark tights. How long I had been wandering around that way we will never know. Thankfully I was 22, the damages far less severe than a similar mishap now.
When I was 32 I wore two different shoes to an early morning meeting, similar in style but markedly different colors. It wasn't until I crossed my legs, and then immediately switched rapidly back and forth to confirm, that I noticed the end of my legs did not match. Long pants can only do so much when one shoe is black and one shoe is red.
My sweaters have holes, my glasses are smudged, my intentions are good.
It's no accident that I surround myself with the kind of wonderful people who are not afraid to tell me to turn around and zip my pants. I fear I'm going to need even more of them as this life goes on.
Thankfully there are no pictures to accompany this post.