Pants

Sunday mornings the garden at the hippy kitchen is open for people to come to the clinic or to sleep or socialize or play games. I came by to help out. I had planned to do some hard work which didn't actually happen, and so I wore my pants with big holes in the knees - the ones my mom wishes I'd just go ahead and throw away.

A man came up to me and asked me how I got those holes in my pants. I though I might be about to get a speech about how I shouldn't cut holes in my clothes, but then he filled in my answer for me - it was because I had been wearing them "for years and years and years and years and years". (Repitition is a form of emphasis. And I'm sure by this point that all the people with a masters in English have noticed that he was doing some repitition.) I laughed and wondered what he was up to.

"I need some air-conditioned pants like that," he said. "I'll give you five dollars for 'em."

I've never had anyone say something like that to me before, so I said something that must've sounded stupid: "I don't have any pants to wear if I sell you these."

He laughed and said "I'll give you these ones," and pointed to his own.

"He's trying to by my pants!" I said to a Catholic Worker friend of mine just to try to get some perspective on the situation. He smiled at me and said it depended on the price the man was willing to give me.

Well, as my mother knows very well by now, I like to hold on to my clothes. So I kept them. But now I can say that I've had someone try to buy the pants off me. And maybe next time I'll go for it.