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Revenge of the "Man-pants"

Monday, July 25, 2005

I'm listening to the book Shadows in Bronze by Lindsey Davis while sewing this week. There are 12 casettes, so I listened to it all last week as well. It's full of long names that don't mean anything to me--names like Vespasian, Helena Justina, Crispus. I generally can't tell if the characters are men or women until I hear a description. The hero's name is Marcus Didius Falco. I don't know what his "sir name" is, but his private name is Marcus--the name that only his lady-friend calls him. Most people call him Falco, but when he introduces himself, he says "Didius Falco."

I only told you all that to let you know what sort of state my mind must be in trying to work it all out and to provide an excuse for what I did to DH's new pants.

You know, the ones *he* bought the fabric for...

Late last night, just as he was calling out his first "It's time for bed!", I put the last stitch in the waist hook. I put them on the ironing board happily and promised myself that I would press and present them this morning first thing. Perhaps he would want to wear them to work and I could get a photo.

I awoke while he was in the shower and jumped up to give the trousers their final press. I was so pleased with the way that they looked. I had made the buttonholes on the back welt pockets extra long, for easy buttoning. The hem was smooth, the belt loops perfect. I knew the waistband was just right this time--I am no longer fooled by his magic expanding waistline.

After carefully creasing the legs and pressing all of the construction rumples away, I proudly carried them in to him. He was *delighted* to have a new pair of navy blue pants. He pulled them on and started to hook the waist hook and got a funny look on his face.

He said "Why is the fly this way?"

(Insert appropriate expression of the most wretched disgust here!)

Yep, I had turned the fly so that it opened right over left.

Stupidus Maximus!!!

"No, you're not wearing them like that!!"

I'm still stinging. It was sweet of him to offer, but I prefer to never be reminded of my odious mistake. Once the trash man cometh, I plan to forget it completely!