White pants always give me pause. It's like they exist to invite terrible things to happen to them. One day I was strolling in the Himalayas (sort of) and noticed two large red splotches below the knee of my-- yes, white pants. The splotches were growing and darkening and I frantically tried to come up with an explanation. Had I bumped into something? Had a forceful collision with a tree branch and forgotten about it? Alas, I could think of nothing plausible. The leftover humidity from a recent rainfall made it difficult to roll up the denim, but I eventually managed to reveal a few inches. All I could see was blood, smeary and covering almost the entire bottom half of my leg. I kept rolling and still couldn't find the source of the blood, continuing to imagine the worst.
Anyway, the source turned out to be an itsy-bitsy scratch, not even a quarter of an inch across.
I really wanted this to be a metaphor for something.
Also, it is the one-year anniversary of this blog. Thanks for cyber-hanging out with me, nebulous and possible imaginary crowd of readers. I'm coming back soon!!
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