while spider sound hovers, blade itching our palm
and we find only steel for reflection.
by me, circa 1987
That said, today was indeed the first day this season that I got up and felt like wearing WHITE PANTS. White Pants aren't something you just get up and put on. You've got to feel a certain way about it. If you're hung over, you certainly don't feel like wearing them. If you didn't have a good night's sleep and woke up cranky, you're not going to feel like wearing them. If you're simply not in the mood to strut around sassily that day, you're not going to wear them. With White Pants comes a burden of assumed attitude that you must attempt to fulfill..
Aside from the psychological burden, there's a physical one: You get dirty during the day when you wear them. When you wear jeans or any other color pants, you have no idea what you've either sat on or brushed up against during the day. You don't think twice when you're on the bus about hauling your bag onto your lap. White Pants will let you know. They will make you think twice.
And since with the White Pants come the White Shoes, you can't just walk through grass and dirt paths where the city hasn't bothered to put down sidewalks, as you normally do. Last year, the only accompaniment to White Pants that I had was one pair of white CANVAS espadrilles. White CANVAS shoes are just stooopid to own. One stain, and they're done for. The stain never comes out, despite your wishing, despite your attempts at applying liquid Wite-Out stolen from your office.
After THAT fiasco, this year I invested in one pair of white LEATHER shoes (that you can wipe off). And I have a nice white purse...(More psychological stuff: It's not a BIG bag like I have to carry work-stuff in. And still no white belt; hate to waste money on that, since I never tuck in shirts and it will never show, but I KNOW when my belt doesn't match...)
Nonetheless, I wore White Pants today for the first time this season! Even after my horrible depressive/lonely/hate-filled episode displayed on this very blog Friday night (that kept me in bed all day Saturday), I rallied Sunday BECAUSE I HAD SOMETHING TO DO!
The Thursday before, an editing job for a 40-page proposal with a potential $7 million at stake came across my desk. I'd been expecting it to come in that previous Monday. When I finally got it Thursday, I was irritated that it had arrived that late, and more irritated that I was supposed to have the thing finished by noon Monday. You can't really carefully edit 40 pages of dense text in 2 days. Nonetheless, it was due noon Monday. So I had to work at least 8 hours over the weekend... Like I said, after my spiel on this blog Friday night, I woke up Saturday with a huge sense of loss and hopelessness about the entire world and my relations with everyone in it. Which staying in bed all day Saturday re-reading Raymond Carver's stories certainly did not assuage! :) I knew Saturday was a mental recuperation period, but then I also knew that I HAD A TON OF WORK TO DO, which only added to my sense of malaise.
When I woke up Sunday, I immediately popped out of bed and started in on the day's worth of work. Worked focused, only water and cigarettes.. E-mailed the doc in by 4pm. An hour or so later got the following e-mail feedback from a 2nd party:
Just finished going through S's thoroughly edited document. (I am truly impressed. Brings back fond memories of S---- and L--- [2 previous editors, who'd been in my position for the 40 years before me], and honestly, S might just outdo those two pros!!).My parents might not love me (which hurts), the woman I'm still in love with might not love me (which hurts), but... BY GOD, SOMEONE OUT THERE APPRECIATES ME!
I got up Monday morning and went to work with White Pants on.