Pantslessness

There’s a tabby that likes to visit the backyard, terrorize The Bear through the backdoor window, and leaves fatty turds for ET to discover and eat.  I feed ET tasty collard greens, fresh nopalitos, hay, and neon-orange yams.  Why the fuck does he run around the backyard chomping on cat poo?  It’s so distressing.

Here he is pretending he doesn’t have cat shit in his mouth.

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Yesterday, I used the oven for the first time since moving to the new place.  I had whipped up some Yorkshire pudding batter, and was putting it in the oven when I realized it was cold.  Le sigh.  Awesome.  Thus, with CSP coming over in less than two hours to pick me up for fun times at a friend’s, I had to figure out how the fuck to light the oven’s pilot light. 

I’m a bit of a paranoid freak when it comes to fire.  Particularly, the idea of my house burning down, and losing all my worldly possessions, including the children.  Thus, I put The Bear in the bedroom, and ET was already in the backyard (more than likely eating feline feces), tied my hair back, and started dismantling the stove per the instructions on the door.

Did I mention that I was having a pantsless weekend?  My goal was to spend as much time in my underwear as possible.  It just felt like the right type of weekend for it. I had managed to spend probably 80% of Saturday in my panties and a t-shirt, and Sunday had started out well in my boy-cut girl boxers and bra.  Thus, I was basically naked when lighting the pilot light.  I worry about my hair catching fire, but somehow didn’t think of my precious skin.  Those are the lengths I go to to achieve my goals.

Thankfully, lit gas did not go shooting through my place.  It was actually fairly anticlimactic.  There was some blue fire.  That’s it.  My skin remained unscathed, The Bear was able to leave the bedroom to bleat at my ankles, and we all know by now what ET was up to.  The Yorkshire pudding was successfully baked (using the mini-muffin tin), and CSP was 30 minutes late.  Therefore, no time was actually lost by the no-pilot-light set-back, and I got to be pantsless even longer than originally planned.  Score!

There’s batch number one.  They are eggy, buttery goodness that made everyone’s mouth skins happy.

The rest of the day was very satisfactory, both with pants and without pants (I made sure to wear dresses this weekend when I did leave the house, which is pseudo-pantslessness, and I get half-credit for it).  Also, thank you to all my friends who supported my goal (you know who you are).  I owe each of you so much.  I will make another batch of pantsless Yorkshire puddings, and each of you can come over here, drop your trousers at the door, and eat them on the loveseat with me.