I try to be a considerate husband. To that end, I try not to make the wife do my laundry too often. Case in point, I often will give my pants the ole smell test at the end of the day. If they look good and they smell good, then they don't really need washing, now, do they?
Well one day, I put on a pair of pants that had passed the smell test on Sunday morning. Later during church, I noticed that I had somehow managed to tuck my pants leg into my sock again. At least that's what I presumed, becuase something about how pant leg was hanging just wasn't right. I discretely looked down to see what was up.
I have to say, I go to the kind of church where it just isn't considered appropriate to pull your underwear out of your pants. But that's exactly what was happening. I guess time I'd worn them, I pealed everything together (no visuals please) and didn't really shake the pants out before throwing them back on the shelf. The underwear had now worked its way down and was falling out my pants.
What in tarnation was I suppoed to do now? If I bend over and get them, I run the risk of calling attention to the situation. Oh, hi there! Don't mind me, I'm just pulling my underwear out of my pant leg. Neat trick, huh? Not a good plan.
Perhaps I could use my left foot to work it out of my pant leg and then just kick it under the bench and come back later for it. But we've got some kids who like to crawl around under the benches after church. I can see it now. Some kid popping up "look at me mom!" wearing my underwear on his head. We sit at the same spot every week, so I'm sure mom would look straight at me. Clearly a worse plan.
Only a little bit was sticking out. Maybe if I was careful, it would just stay there. You know how everybody laughs at you when you trail toilet paper stuck to your shoe everywhere? Well, I suspsect underwear would be worse. Maybe they would fall out nobody would see where they came from! Yeah, except that I didn't know for sure if this was one of the pair my mom had written my name on. Another rotten plan.
There were no good plans. I decided the original plan was the best. I waited until we were about to sing. As every body was leaning forward for hymnals, I smoothly leaned over and walked it out with my fingers, wadding it up in the process. It was then a simple matter of slipping it into my pocket. As far as I know, the only person who saw it was Charlene, and her only because I whispered "look what was in my pant leg". I still can't quite resist embarassing her a little bit given these unique opportunities. I'm sure anybody who looked at us singing that hymn was probably very impressed with how we were beaming with joy.
By the way, I soundly rejected titling this story "While In Church, Keep It In Your Pants". I do have some sense of propriety.