So this morning, it was raining hard when my alarm went off. I am a sucker for morning rain. It makes me want to curl up in bed with some tea and knitting. When I rule the world, people will not have to leave the house when it is raining. People will also not have to leave the house when it is snowing and will not have to work when it is nice outside, so my economy might be in for collapse but I digress. I was running late this morning and those jeans were the only pair in my drawer.
This afternoon I visited the ladies room and when I pulled my pants back up, the button was gone. It was there when I came in and unbuttoned my pants. It did not fall off in my hand. I did not hear it hit the tile floor. It was just gone. I looked on the floor as carefully as one can without actually getting down on the icky work bathroom floor and the button was nowhere to be seen. I stood there in disbelief, hoping to avoid pants related catastrophe for just a few short hours.
An entirely foreseeable and preventable pants related catastrophe, that is. Since I am fortunate enough to own multiple pairs of pants, there are really only two reasonable actions when one encounters an “oh, I can wiggle this critical pants-holding-up button out of its home” situation. 1. Throw the pants away. 2. Repair the pants in a more permanent fashion than simply wiggling the button back on.
Later that afternoon, I had a creepy crawly feeling down my right leg. I shook my leg and out fell the button. I went to the bathroom and wiggled it back on. When I got home, I promptly threw the pants in the trash.
Stupid button. Stupid inability to throw cute jeans away.