They will be missed

July 28, 2008 § 2 Comments

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I am moving back home to the United States in, um, 17 days.  This is exhilarating, reassuring, traumatic, weird, and I’m afraid the only accurate way to describe my feelings about it is: “all of the above.”

Even though it’s too early to start packing, I decided to spend some of my free time this evening going through my clothes and deciding what would reamain east of the Atlantic.  I have filled two plastic Sainsbury’s bags so far, mostly with “unfortunate” purchases I made here.  (Warning: do not attempt British fashion unless you are totally committed.)

But also weighing down those plastic bags are a couple old friends – two pairs of pants that I’ve had for years and years.  One is a dark brown pair of Old Navy chinos with a little bead detail on the top waistband.  These have been my default “business casual” pants for years, getting me through many office jobs and other professional encounters.  Unlike any other pair of chinos I’ve owned, they fit comfortably low on my waist, and do not cause a stomach cramp midway through the day from sitting hunched over at a desk.

And then there’s my jeans.  You know those jeans. THE jeans.  The ones that were perfect from the instant you first put them on.  The jeans that somehow, out of all the possible fits in the world, fit you.  The jeans that are flattering, comfortable and versatile all at once.  The ones that are always first to be worn out of the clean laundry pile.  I fucking LOVE these jeans.

I know it’s not a good idea to get attached to material possesions, and this post pretty much proves that.  It makes it that much harder to admit that it might be time to retire, and discard, your old friends.

My brown chinos hardly pass for “professional” anymore, what with the beads falling off and the seams coming apart.  And my jeans… sigh.  The bottom two inches have been completely worn off… as in, I stepped on them so much that they ripped off right in a straight line at the “correct” length, leaving a rough frayed edge.  Then that edge started splitting upwards in vertical lines. And to complete the mental image, the last 6 inches has turned a permanent dark gray/brown color from repeated mud exposure.  There is also a hole developing under my left buttcheek.

It’s time.

I guess it’s a good thing that I’m moving across an ocean (in two suitcases) because otherwise I might never get rid of them.  And I would continue to walk around looking like a muddy farm clown and no one would talk to me.

I don’t think I’ll ever find a better pair of jeans.  I hope they know that.

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