After one too many 14+ hour work days, my favorite work pants irreparably tore at the crotch this evening when I reached high towards the ceiling in effort to hang the cafe's new Courier Coffee Roasters sign (which was crafted by our good friend Keegan, over at Keegan Meegan Press & Bindery). The split is pretty massive, extending all the way to the knee on one leg, and halfway down my thigh on the other. Thank god for my apron or it would have been one breezy (not to mention potentially criminal) walk home. Can you say indecent exposure?
So I say thank you, pants. I always admired how breathable you were, as well as your willingness to stay rolled up on my calf when we went for a bike ride. Most of all, I cherished that fact that your brown/gray seersucker pattern resembled silly baker's pants, or even chef's pants. Know that I always felt like a chef when I wore you at work.
You will be missed.
XO,
E
8.15.2009
Ode to My Pants
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1 comment:
Did you save them? Because if you did, I might be able to do some Creative Repair on them. Seriously.
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