My Pants

So there I was, working. Working the day away while all my friends had the day off. Working when my wife and kids are at home. Hot, sweaty work. Work that makes you think and work that is precise. Without telling you all who I am or where I work I'll just say it was a very special occasion. It comes up about twice a year, and I dread it.

Anyway, there I was, my wife came out to bring me lunch and it was a nice interlude to the day. Until I feel a rrrriiiiiipppppp. I just tore the ass out of my pants. Son of a... Now I have yet another decision to make, on top of all the stuff already to do. I figured since there is almost nobody at work, and I could for most part cover up the ripped pants, I'll just tough it out at the job site... I mean gas and all, you know what I mean?

Of course everybody starts asking, "why am I dressed that way?" and commenting and such. (didn't really plan on that) I figured I could just tell the few people at work I did in fact tear a hole in my pants, but thinking it and actually saying it are two different things completely. You just don't know how close/far you are with someone until you have to make a declaration like that. Thankfully only a few were actually there, otherwise I'd of had to go home, waste all that time changing, and then came back to work.

This whole thing I did today, it revealed quite a few deficiencies in my stroke recovery. Things, that may never come back. But it got done, or done enough. Tomorrow is another day as they say. And what be better than working Easter weekend? Ummm....Hmmmm