As many of you who read my blog know, pants and I don’t necessarily see eye to eye. In fact I only put them on when only when necessary. With that being said, I’ve developed a strategic system so that my sister and her family are not scarred for life by my “trouserleness”. I actually made a “terms of agreement” with them, so that way we all can live harmoniously without the oppression of pants. I get up pretty early, around 4:30 or so, so until around 7 am, when everyone else get up, my dog and I roam the house, pants free. After 10pm if I’m still up and around, I walk around however I please. The “No Pants Peace Treaty” has worked quite well, until my sister forgot to inform me she was having company after 10. This is where my plight takes place.

It’s 10 on the dot, I’m downstairs just hanging out rocking the boyshorts, grabbing a bottle of water, and rocking out to some tasty jams. I’m also looking out at the patio up in the sky strewn across with a cluster of stars. The Vegas weather has been nothing but amazing so I was taking it all in. Then, in a random instant, the doorbell rings, Abbey goes ape-shit (she hates being surprised), and runs to the door. My sister answers and invites one of her friends in. Fortunately for me, I’m in the kitchen, wearing just a V-neck, sweater and boyshorts. Since the kitchen is strategically sectioned off from the living room, all they can see is a seemingly fully dressed me in the kitchen.

My sister then offers her friend a drink and she accepts. They start making their way to the kitchen, and I’m just standing there with a creepy/embarrassed smile on my face trying to figure out how I can not so creepily explain my plight. Fortunately for me, my sister gets to the kitchen first. She’s laughing at a joke that her guest had made and literally mid-laugh, she stops in her tracks, looks at me in my no pants glory, bewildered.  She pauses then laughs and explains to her friend that I’m “freelancing” and to wait in the office so I can put some pants on. I then jokingly point out that it’s past 10 and my sister laughs and agrees, then apologizes that she forgot to tell me she was having a girl’s night. I shrug it off, honestly I was more concerned for the girl’s embarrassment rather than my own.

You know, you’d think I’d stop running around without pants by the shear amount of times I’ve been caught. But I will continue the no pants fight as long as I live to see another day. In addition to the “No Pants Treaty” my sister shoots me a text should there be guests past 10 in which I happily retreat to my room with my pup, in my no pants glory.