Date Night

While some have heard it, some have not. . .

The last time Jake & I went out together, we were shopping for jeans for him. (MAJOR detail, since he’s really not into shopping and purchasing for him is the main way to get him to go. . .) We cruised around the malls in Pensacola, then came home via 9-mile road, i.e., Target & Kohl’s. I was wearing a pair of khaki’s from Abercrombie that I had boldly purchased for $1 at a garage sale — Jake had just deemed them his favorite before we left home. Anyway, we stopped at Target first, where I tried on some clothing and we generally toured the store. We were getting pretty hungry, so we decided that we would eat at Cock-of-the-Walk before going to Kohl’s.

When we got out of the car at the restaurant, we followed an older couple up to the door. They were walking really slowly, and I thought, Too bad we didn’t get out of the car a little faster. . . After dutifully waiting for them to go in, I thought again, Something feels a little weird — like a draft or something . . . As an afterthought, I put my hand on my derriere to check things, and made a gruesome discovery — I was feeling skin. I was appalled — Further investigation revealed a rip that was about a foot long, going from the top of the pocket down onto my leg. There was no pocket or anything there to shield the world from the view.

I hissed to Jake, “Go get my coat!” and he came back laughing. Of course, it was tinged with sadness because they were his favorite pants. So, I went into the restaurant with my black dress coat tied around my waist. We wracked our brains to think when it could have happened, and I was terrified that it had happened in the dressing room at Target, and that I had continued shopping in that state. After eating, we walked over to Kohl’s, made our purchases, and left. On the way back to the car, Jake made a sport of throwing the shopping bag as high into the air as it would go — not much of a sport, nor was he very good at it. Then, he took off running for the car, arriving inside just in time to bless it with the gaseous results of dinner. When I arrived and got in the car, mingled with the putrid smell was a sense of relief — as I sat in the car, I felt the pants rip even more. I now firmly believe that the original rip happened as I sat in the car after Target.

So, now I have no khaki’s, but we had a fun evening.