Well, now I’ve done it – I can’t wear pants. When I do, I just feel gross. I spent all of yesterday wearing Pants for Real (as opposed to Temporary Pants when the pizza is delivered or when I have to run downstairs for emergency Diet Coke), and I felt just awful all day – greasy and sloppy, like a gargantuan awknerd. I just wanted to go home and hide away all day and maybe take seven showers or so to get the non-existent greasy film off my person. I never feel like that when I’m not wearing pants, so the only logical – scientific, even – assumption to make here is that pants are evil and should never be worn.

It is good that I live in a temperate region – I can go the entire year without pants, if I choose. My legs might be occasionally cold, but it’s not like I’m in danger of vagina frostbite even in the depths of winter. If I had the patience to do a one-a-day style blog about my lack of pants, I would give it some serious thought. Alas, I just don’t care enough (and can’t imagine I’d find an audience of people willing to see the pants I’m not wearing each and every day) to put forth that kind of effort. Hell, I even skipped writing here yesterday. I am the WORST BLOGGER EVER.

Today was day three of our resumed mail service, and I have yet to receive any mail. I did get a package yesterday containing my new Docs but those were delivered by courier. The Delivery Challenge at work is tied 1-1, but that doesn’t do me any good this weekend – one of the packages contains part of Heather’s birthday present, which is this Sunday. I’m trying to feel empathy for Canada Post, but I deserve some kind of shiny medal for even trying to look past the “GIVE ME MY STUFF NOW” aspect to feel sorry for their $26/h salaries and horrible working conditions. I mean, really. I am so selfish sometimes.

I wish I wore t-shirts, because this is the greatest thing ever:

yes.