Entropy

I find I'm having a tough time giving away my favorite pair of pants, even as they disintegrating at the atomic level right before my eyes. Part of the problem is that I want them to go out with a bang; I need to win the lottery or get Angelina Jolie's phone number while wearing them. Something.

Wearing these jeans has become a chore akin to wearing a skirt, since the entire crotchal region has two mammoth tears in it, so I have to wear boxers under them and keep my legs crossed while seated. Disastrous is the only term that I can think of to describe the situation that would arise if I had my bikini underwear on or, worse, an ancient pair of boxers that also had the crotch worn out.



With the shame of my shabby underwear looming over me, I went to JC Penney's to buy some new underwear, and it turned out to be the most expensive packages of boxers ever purchased. I paid with a $50 bill, but got into a conversation with the elderly woman behind the counter, and in doing so distracted her from her change-related duties, meaning that I never got any money back from the transaction. I eventually got it back, but trying to tell people you didn't get your change invariably results in you being looked at like a crook. Ugh.