I woke up cranky this morning. No, I don’t know why. No, nothing in particular happened. I was just immediately cranky, alright… and yes, clearly I still am. Which is fine for me to say, but not for anyone else. Why? Because these are my cranky pants, not theirs. I own them. They fit me. They even have my name stitched on the inside, heaven forbid I lose them. So go get your own cranky pants.
Of course, the problem with cranky pants is that once you’re wearing them, they are almost impossible to remove. Five years as a wannabe actress provided me with ample experience in faking it, but as for making it… nope. So, sure, I can smile at work and act professional, but at the end of the day – hello vino! It’s the only lubricant strong enough to remove those pants. And no, that does not make me an alcoholic… don’t go there… coz as I write this, I’ve yet to have that wine and the pants are so tight they are practically giving me a wedgy.
What I have learnt about those cranky pants though is that they double as a trouble magnet. Everything shit in life gravitates my way and suddenly I go from easy-going Fluffy who gets along with everyone, to everything is shite and I wanna scream Fluffy. My neighbour thinks it’s ok to water the garden outside my window (which includes actually watering said window) at 0630, the other neighbour’s dog tries to swallow Sherlock, who then refuses to go on his walk, which is also my walk, then my new heels are making an annoying sound when I walk and my gate remote won’t work so I can’t get my car out for 5 minutes which feels like an hour and has me thinking I may have to listen to that annoying sound my shoes are making for 1 km while I walk to the train station, and then when I am in the car, which smells like fish even though I don’t eat fish, I discover that today all drivers are idiots (except for me, obviously) because it’s raining and no one understands the purpose of pedestrian crossings and why the hell is that guy parked there and damn it, I forgot my lunch, again. Someone just get me a coffee, please! Only, I hate coffee, I really do, and to this day – particularly today – I have no idea why I am drinking it.
You probably think there is an amazing moral or some words of wisdom coming, right? Sorry, got nothing. Other than I want you to know, that we all own at least one pair of cranky pants, and that it’s ok to wear them on occasion. As long as you remember to take them off at the end of the day.
Now if you will excuse me, I need to go find that lubricant.