Waiting for the elevator, Wednesday morning.
Lorain: How long have you been at St. Mary?
Marin: Almost a year-and-a-half. I showed up July 2007.
L: Wow. It seems like you've been here forever.
The elevator arrives.
M: Some days, I would totally agree with you.
ride ride ride
L: Your floor. Have a good day.
M: You too, Lorain.
L: Oh, no! Marin, your...
Elevator doors close.
I batted at my hair, tried to look down my back, brushed my shoulders to remove spiders or other things that would make Lorain go, "Oh, no!"
I walked back toward my office and stopped off next door.
"Avis, do I have something on my back? Or in my hair?"
"No, I don't see anything."
"Maybe I got it, then. Lorain tried to catch me, but the elevator doors closed before she could tell me what was wrong."
"Looks OK to me."
I turned to walk out of her office.
"That's what Lorain said."†
"You have a rip in your pants. Your butt is showing."‡
I reached down and sure enough.¶ Pasty white butt flapping in the breeze.§
So I yanked my sweater down, crab-walked to the break room and grabbed the sewing kit. I locked myself in the office and sat half-naked in my chair in my downtown corporate office,# mending the rip.
The good news? The repair job was invisible.
The bad news? Lorain may be scarred for life.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Yes, I did think, "That's what she said." Thank you for asking.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Thong. So you don't have to ask.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): This is not the first time. You may remember a blogpost cleverly titled "Ass." Same rip, same place. Apparently, the stitching on the pockets is like a "tear here" perforation over time.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): In the interest of full disclosure (heheheheh), when I got out of the car that morning, I had a weird feeling that turned out to be a pair of underwear stuck inside the leg of my jeans. I did not have the weird feeling that I was mooning all of downtown as I walked to the office.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): An experience I highly recommend if you can find a way to swing it.