Ending the Year Without Pants

If you had a crazy night last night that involved lots of alcohol, or a crowded party, dancing, singing, and counting down the last seconds until the New Year, my hat is off to you, no matter how hung over or tired you may be this morning. For my New Year's Eve, I had a good dose of humiliation. For my friends that know me well, you all can just shake your heads and add another episode of my mayhem to the list. I swear I don't know how this crap always happens to me. I have not, however, lost the lesson on this one.

I actually started by having a fairly decent afternoon. I saw two movies, Doubt and Marley and Me, and really liked them both. I had visited Sam's Club earlier to stock up on a few things and came home to unload my car after the movies. That was when the first not-so-fun thing happened. I had purchased a "flat" of ginger ale at Sam's, one of the long, low cardboard trays filled will single cans meant to save me money. When I opened the back of my car, somehow the flat became airborne and the cans went flying. It was dark and cold and ginger ale was hissing and spitting out of the cans from all directions, and of course cans roll, so I was busy chasing the cans all down my driveway and the street. So, twenty minutes later, I finally have a few cans left in the tray and am headed to my back door to go inside my house. I barely get the door open when a rocket of fur and paws flies by me out onto the deck. This rocket is also known as Baxter, my cat who has recently decided that it is way fun to fly out the door when I come home and make me chase him, terrified he will be squashed by oncoming traffic nearby. I throw the ginger ale inside, run after Baxter, catch him, finally get inside my house, pissed and covered in ginger ale (which is sticky), and now cat fur.

My jeans took the brunt of the ginger ale spraying, so I take those off and then remember that I have a package laying on the front doormat. I had seen it while driving by my house circling to park in back. So, for some reason, sans jeans, I think I can barely crack the door open and quickly swipe the small package from the doormat. I go to do this, and as I do, rocket cat gets a second wind and shoots past/under me, I don't know. I manage to grab him BY THE TAIL, but he pulls me outside. I don't want the other cats to get out (I have 2 others), so I pull the door just barely closed, but as I do this, Baxter yanks me, and bang! the door slams shut AND LOCKED. I am now standing on my front porch in a CROPPED sweatshirt and panties. I say cropped sweatshirt, because I want to stress that I could not be wearing a nice oversized sweatshirt that covers anything, but a cropped sweatshirt that barely reaches the top of my underwear. And COLD? Did I mention how COLD it is???? I reach down and grab Baxter, who is squirming and making noises like a toddler I have robbed of playtime, and I literally started to cry. But then, of course, several cars drove by and started to honk. And I had to laugh. I was trying to wait for the streets to be empty before running around the side of my house-under the bright streetlamps-to the back door-PRAYING IT WAS UNLOCKED. So anyway, finally, I did run around the house and my back door was unlocked. Once inside, Baxter flopped down and looked at me as if to say, Whew! I am tired!

Little shit.

So the lesson I learned? NEVER remove your pants before getting a package from the front porch. Ever.

AND, I am so glad 2008 is over. I didn't stay up to ring in the new year. I went to bed soon after my semi-streaking incident. I have had enough of 2008. I wanted 2009 to get here as fast as possible.

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