The downside? All that technology never sleeps. If I don’t drive my barely-used two-year-old car (a whopping 1,200 miles on the odometer — yes, there really is a little old lady who only drives on weekends, c’est moi), the battery throws in the towel. Thank goodness for my NOCO jump starter and NOCO battery charger — they’ve saved me more times than I care to admit.
To avoid future drama, I started a new routine: every couple of days I pop out to the garage, crack the garage door — no carbon monoxide poisoning for me, no sir! —, fire up the engine, and let it run. Last week I thought, Why not take it for a quick spin around the neighborhood? That way it would be good and charged for coffee with the ladies the next morning.
Big mistake.
Here’s the thing about summer at my house: it’s extremely casual. As in, pants-optional casual. I’m constantly up and down stairs, crawling around cleaning cabinets, and sitting on the floor. Pants just get in the way. So there I was in the garage, T-shirt, favorite purple underwear, and my trusty Crocs, when I decided to take that little drive.
Two miles from home, it hit me like a thunderbolt. I was sitting at a stoplight in nothing but my skivvies.
I immediately started sweating. What if I got pulled over? Can you imagine the poor officer’s face?
“Ma’am… do you know why I stopped you?”
“Yes, officer. Because I’m living my best pantsless life at 35 mph.”
I turned around faster than a guilty teenager and slunk home, garage door opening like the gates of shame. Lesson learned?
…Let’s just say with me, you never really know.
(Number two son, Andrew – whom you all should know by now – is always quick with a word. “Mom,” he told me, “Had you been at Wal-Mart, you would have fit in just fine.” As usual, he was not wrong.)
This story is part of my series Life on Planet Pattie, about the foibles of life, resilience, and the occasional furniture-moving adventure. It appears the first Monday of every month.
You might also enjoy:
Hilarious 80s Mom Fail: The Pepperoni That Stole the Show at Pizza Hut
The Great Potting Soil Heist (and Other Adventures in Independent Living)
Clean and Presentable, or so I thought.
A Winter-Weathered Miracle Under the Chair
Nothing Is Ever Simple (Featuring a Refrigerator and My — GASP! — Underwear)
Refrigerator Roulette, Round Two


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