Self Disclosure

I can't imagine why, but lately it's like I just forgot how to zip my pants.

Everything else in my life is pretty normal, but I'm all the time now coming out of the restroom, prancing all around having conversations and encounters, and then like 45 minutes later Lope will point out that my barn door's open.

"How long has your zipper been down?" she'll ask.

"Like 45 minutes!"

It's just ridiculous. It's with all my pants, jeans and corduroys alike, and just about every day. At what point did my brain begin just OMITTING the critical restroom step that results in you not unwittingly exposing your underwear to everybody around?

I'd like to theorize that someone's secretly waxing the teeth of all my zippers, causing the little YKK cable car to quietly cruise down the line while I'm not looking, but I can't imagine this as likely.

And I'd like to tell myself no one has noticed besides me and Lope, but again, this is doubtful.

And there's no kind of exhibitionist streak or anything like that, either.

Maybe it's just one of those things, you know? Like getting a date wrong, where once you do it a few times it becomes habit, and the little red flashing YOU ARE DRAFTY AND INDECENT alerts that are supposed to go off in your head just stop going off each time you rinse your hands, walk away from the sink and trot out the door unzipped. I really don't know.

But if you happen to run into me anytime soon -- or, heck, years from now if this doesn't clear up -- well, sorry. I apologize.

It won't happen again intentionally, but it *will* happen again. Maybe I'll just switch to sweatpants.