A.M. that is.
Back before I was a loving wife and doting mother, I was a bit more…free-spirited.
I lived with a roommate in a rockin’ apartment that was THE after-party place to be. We went out every night and came home with an assortment of interesting characters. Naturally, antics would ensue.
One night, after a particularly…um…festive evening at the local pub, we were back at the house trying to negotiate a healthy balance between mayhem and not-destroying-the-place. Things were going well until an obviously tipsy acquaintance went upstairs to use the bathroom.
After some time had passed, I began to get nervous about what our new friend might be doing upstairs. Images of bodily fluids and petty larceny flooded my imagination. I decided to investigate.
As I approached the bathroom door, I heard the villain struggling and cursing. Then came an incantation that shook me to my core.
“Just pull your pants up, get your shit together, and go home.” This is what I heard, coming from my bathroom where some sloppy lush was using my pristine toilet.
Why was he talking to himself? What shit did he need to get together? Why were his pants down?? What was going on in there???
“Get your shit together, pull up your pants, and get the fuck home. Pull your pants up, get your shit together, and go home. Pull your pants up, get your shit together, and go home. Get your shit TOGETHER, Pull you pants UP, and get yourself the FUCK home. Pullyourpantsupgetyourshittogetherandgohome…”
This went on for a full minute before I realized I had to do something. I ran to the stairs to call for help.
Luckily, another near-stranger came to save the day. My intrepid saviour managed to squeeze himself into the restroom and remove the offending party. Luckily, my hero also got the villain’s pants up before they emerged.
I was so grateful to my this mysterious stranger I vowed to make him a grilled cheese sandwich then and there (drunks have strange requests). I really hadn’t been prepared to pull up that guy’s pants on our first meeting; I probably would have promised him anything.
The drunken villain staggered off into the night as I mopped the bathroom floor (you can only imagine…). I could not believe the mess he’d made. A decision was quickly made never to let that guy in the house again, obviously.
However, that giant mess of a man taught me one of the most valuable lessons I’ve learned thus far:
When you’re in a tough spot and you don’t know what to do, just pull your pants up, get your shit together, and go home.