Fathom Draft

I feel a fathom draft. 


I get up every morning and put on my makeup.  I look good.........well, as good as I can under the circumstances.  I try to look pretty good because, now, my job is being retired.  A pretty good job I must say.  During the night I decided that today I would clean my kitchen sink with bleach.  You don't ever want to wear good clothes when you work with bleach..............so I grabbed my old favorite, paint splattered, bleach stained, ripped jeans (but the cool, sexy kind of rips---yeah, right!!  A 60-something year old woman is not a good model for sexy ripped jeans!!  NOPE.)  Nonetheless, my old faded 505 Levi's are indeed ripped--didn't buy them that way.  But hey, they are 12 years old and entitled to a rip or two.  One rip was one just below the back pocket.....one of those rips where the horizontal threads were the only thing holding it together.  Not a biggie at that point.  It would be covered with my longer t-shirt.


I continued my cleaning chores, cleaning the sink, mopping, cleaning the bathrooms, etc.  At every bending motion I felt them ripping just a tad more.  I felt cool air....by George, these jeans are going to hold together till I finish cleaning.  I don't want to stop and change clothes.  I continue on.  Rip.......... rip.......... rip. 


Then the hubby's friend calls to tell us he is coming over.  I ask the hubby if he thinks Marvin wold be able to see this, pointing to the rip on my booty.  "Uh, yeah.  It wasn't that big this morning.  The rip I mean.  Your butt was."  Oh no, he didn't just say that!  Then we laughed..........a little uncomfortably on his part.  I told him I would just keep my shirt pulled down and it would be fine.  Besides they would be outside so chance of anyone seeing my sexy back side.  I continued cleaning, ripping a little more with each bend until my jeans were getting more and more comfortable and a little more drafty.  A lot drafty!  I felt back there.  Wow, that rip is from seam to seam. 


Shoot.  Now I have to take off and I will never get back on the cleaning track.  Oh well.  That's okay because I wanted to rest anyway.  But now, even in my clean non-ripped jeans, I feel this fathom draft.  I still feel the cool air.


Fathom draft.........that's what it is.  But nobody saw my booty today!


I love you.