>It all started like a very good Beatles song. You know: woke up. Got out of bed. Dragged a comb across my head. Found my way downstairs and I drank a cup. Looking up, I noticed I was late. Found my coat and grabbed my hat. Made the bus in seconds flat. Found my way upstairs and had a smoke. Then somebody spoke and I went into a dream.
Except that I found my way into the dining room and had a bowl of high fiber cereal instead of coffee. And I don't really comb my hair. I just took my asthma meds, put in my contacts, and brushed my teeth. (Come to think of it, I forgot to even take my vitamins.) I was running late, though, because I spent a lot of time cleaning Tycho's litter and petting him. However, forget grabbing my coat and hat, because I could not bring myself to put on pants. The thought of getting dressed for real was incapacitating. Probably I could have handled throwing on a pair of jeans and a ratty t-shirt, but it would not be appropriate to show up for my consulting gig that way.
So I did the next best thing. I decided to work from home in my Krispy Kreme t-shirt that is longer than most dresses I see women wearing these days. I read plans and had conference calls. I wrote something for BlogHer on how Fox rejected a new Trojan ad because it was about preventing unwanted pregnancies, which they do not consider a health-related issue. I revised my poorly written memoir piece to share with my writing group tonight. All this was accomplished without wearing any pants.