Walk in the Park

My conception of appropriate dress is dictated very strongly by the climate in which I grew up.  Being used to Floridian weather means no long pants, no long sleeves, no shoes that require me to wear socks if I can avoid it, and layering is a concept which I don’t even acknowledge academically.  If you’re cold, you put on a jacket.  If you’re still cold, you should have brought a heavier jacket.

All of this means I’m happiest when wearing khaki shorts, a simple T-shirt (ideally old enough so that it’s got a few holes in it), and a pair of sandals.  My high school uniform required shoes and socks, although suddenly I can’t picture what shoes I would have worn.  I just can’t imagine myself in sneakers.   Those didn’t make it into normal wear.  The polo shirts, aside from being polo shirts, had logos on them, so they’re out too.  But I’ve still got the uniform khaki shorts and pants that I wore senior year.

Now, granted, those pants were more for show than anything else: I don’t think I ever wore them to school.  And the shorts all had holes in the left pocket (where I used to store pencils and pens, point down) by the time I graduated.  But the pants work for special occasions, and the shorts are good for wearing around the house.  At this point, both pockets have holes in them big enough that my cell phone meets no resistance between leaving my hand and slamming into my foot when I try to put it in one of those pockets.

I wasn’t expecting to leave the apartment today, so I found myself in one of those particular pocketless pair of shorts.  And then I looked out the window saw the treetops of Park HaYarkon, and said to myself “hey, there should be a me out there among those trees.”  So I went for a walk.

But no pockets.  What to do?  Well, what do I really need in order to take a walk?  I need my keys, in case I want to get back into my apartment afterwards, and I need my wallet, in case somewhere along the way someone wants to steal my wallet.  Fine, the hole in my back pocket is still barely big enough to poke a finger through, so the wallet can go in there.  I’ve got a small carabiner/latch thing on my keychain, so that can hook into a belt loop and hang *into* my pocket.  I’m set.  Now all I need is some interesting story or metaphor to happen while I’m outside that will justify coming up with the above exposition.

Found a shorter way to the park.  Took a really steep path up a hill.  Saw some kids on bikes.  Came home.

Huh.  That wasn’t interesting in the slightest.  Well I suppose they can’t all be gems.

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