live life pantless

Full disclosure:  I live life pantless. I am proud of this. I have no shame.

What does this mean exactly? It means I like to spend 73% of my time while awake without pants, and 99% of my time while asleep without pants. If these percentages are messed with, my legs get grumpy which sometimes leads to my face getting grumpy which leads to all kinds of unpleasant and grumpy things. Life is better lived pantless.

Without pants, life is...

  • Happier.
  • More exciting.
  • Incredibly breezier.

Let's take it one thing at a time. First, happier!

As a visual aid, take these 2 stick men. The one on the left has pants. The one on the right has no pants.

Wait. Hm. As it turns out, the only difference between Mr. Stickman with Pants and Mr. Stickman without Pants is... a balloon? Hm. Well... Hm. Let's see... Oh! Yes. Here we go. Balloons are one of those things that make people happy without really having a good reason for it. If you ask a random man named Joe [who may or may not be the stick man on the right] to tell you some random objects that make him feel inexplicably happy, he will undoubtedly include the no-brainers of Llamas, Crayons, Clouds Shaped Like Crayons, Soy Beans, and Rainbows. But, there is also a 78% chance [not too shabby!] that he will also mention Balloons. Because balloons are happy. So perhaps this isn't the most conventional [or convincing] argument that a pantless life is a better life, but trust me, this picture really is all you need at the end of the day.

Let's move on to number 2. Life is more exciting without pants.

Allow me to paint a purely hypothetical situation. It is just a normal day filled with normal life things. You wake up at 8:22 a.m. You sit up in bed and rub the sleep out of your eyes for 47 seconds,  13 seconds on the left eye, 13 seconds on the right eye, 13 more seconds on the left eye, and 8 seconds more on the right [you have your reasons]. You scrounge around for your shirt that has fallen in the crevice behind your bed. You step out of bed and land on a penguin. You leave the bedroom and trip over the cat who has it in his feral mind that if he can somehow get to the living room before you he will magically win something awesome. You fill a bowl with cereal and rice milk and start your morning's internet goof-off time. You start work.

So far, nothing out of the ordinary has happened. Life is normal. Life is good. And, of course, all of this life is happening without pants.

But then. The clock strikes 11:30. You consider taking your lunch break. You consider what to eat for lunch. You consider whether to go to the bathroom before or after your prepare your lunch. But then. Right in the middle of all of your run-of-the-corn-mill considerations, someone starts cheerily banging on your front door. Your brain freezes. What to do? You are in the middle of an active job with time ticking away. Your ears are attached to the computer via purple magic wires [some call them harmless earphones, but I think they are ever more insidious than that... but that's another story]. Your cats are going bonkers because they know the knocking means someone wants to kill them. And, as always, you are pantless. What to do? Oh, what to do?

The knocking suddenly stops. You think to yourself, "Ah, it was just a delivery man dropping off a package. What luck!" But before you even have time to re-remember your lunch options [bean stew or oven-baked sandwich?], another round of banging commences. The UPS man never does this. This can only mean one thing:  The apartment maintenance men have finally come to evaluate the holes they made in your walls weeks ago. You know this is almost-worst-case scenario. WHERE ARE YOUR PANTS?

You know you have a very limited amount of time remaining before a considerably embarrassing situation ensues. Maintenance men tend to knock only twice before pulling our their set of master keys and just barging right in. Barging right into your home while you stand in the middle of the room, spinning in not-quite-frantic circles, completely pantless.

As the second round of knocking ends, your pantless legs kick into motion [despite the obvious lack of help from your brain]. You dash to the bedroom to find some appropriate covering for your soon-to-be-mortified legs. The gray cat dashes with you, making you trip into the hamper of "Oh, we'll do laundry soon" clothes sitting in the hall. You suddenly realize that what you're looking for is actually back out in the living room in the pile of clothes haphazardly draped over the arm of the couch, what your husband has jokingly been referring to as your "living room dresser." Do you have time to dash back out and grab some shorts before the front door opens? As the only other option at this point is just quickly crawling under your bed pantless and hoping the maintenance men don't find you [that'd be weird to explain] or stay for an hour, you decide it is worth the risk.

So out you dash to the living room. Your gray cat dashes with you, nearly careening your face into the bookcase. You scoop up your entire living room dresser and haul it back to the bedroom. You find something to appropriately clothe your legs. You shove the rest of the pile under the blankets. And then you nonchalantly stroll back out to the living room... just as a third round of knocking starts.

Wait. What? They're knocking a third time? This is... unheard of. This is... Sigh. All of that frantic dashing about when you really had all the time in the world*. So you answer the door as if you wear pants all the time and those three unsuspecting, hammer-wielding maintenance men are none the wiser.

Excitement at its finest. The pantless life is an exciting life indeed.

Final point! Life without pants is breezier.

I really don't think this one needs to be explained. I just wanted to include it because A) you need at least three items to make a legitimate bullet-pointed list [I know I have mentioned this before, but it holds enough truth for another mention] and B) it is so true. You want a breezy life? Live it pantless.

So there you have it. I live life pantless. I am proud of this. I have no shame. And I have reasons for it. Who doesn't want to live a happier, more exciting, and [above all] breezier life?

So, the next time a day just starts going awry, you feel your face getting grumpified, or you just feel, well, just stifled...

Sometimes you need to just take the pants off.

I imagine this goes without saying [and so I will say it anyway! like everyone does! because that's the thing to do!], but for the sake of those with poor self-awareness or anyone who happens to follow the "If you don't explicitly state it, then I will assume otherwise" mentality:  The removal of your trousers should only be done in the privacy of your own home, no matter how stifled you feel while in public, and preferably only around those who are comfortable with your unashamed legs [i.e. spouse, pets, alter ego, etc.]

As that one fellow said, "You have to wear pants even if they are uncomfortable. It is important to wear pants when you leave the house." Wise, wise words.

Don't let their judging eyes fool you; they honestly don't mind you pantless.

*As long as "all the time in the world" means "more than 30 seconds but definitely less than all the time in the world."

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