Sunday, October 25, 2009

Do You Leave the House in your Lounge Wear?

Sweatpants, t-shirt, baseball cap, slippers and a cup of coffee. This is how I present myself to you this morning. But not when I leave the house.

Someone once told me the sign of giving up on fitness is wearing elastic waist bands. Hopefully my comfy sweats aren't such a sign. For I don't wear them out of the house.

A couple of weeks ago at Stop & Shop there was a girl - probably in her early twenties - that literally looked as if she rolled out of bed, drove herself to the grocery store and began her shopping. Perhaps it was to just pick up a few things. Regardless, slippers (however shoe-like they look), Simpsons' lounge pants, an oversized sweatshirt and hair tucked up under a baseball cap are an ensemble that are not to leave the house. On a Tuesday morning, I have a hard enough time going to the curb to add my empty bottle of water to the recycling bin let alone go out and do my food shopping.

Yesterday during a rash of errands (mind you dressed in jeans and sneakers not lounge wear) we stopped off at the local meat market and picked up two gorgeous pieces of steak. Hours later while I was once again at home and comfy in my sweats, Chris was out in the pouring rain (cooking is his job not mine) ready to spark up the grill. Apparently the propane tank, which we had just filled two weeks ago, was stuck in the off position. I was called out to help (that's my job to fix the things that are broken). No matter how hard we tried to turn the valve, even using a wrench and then even a hammer, it wouldn't move. Luckily we didn't blow-up the house.

With both of us now soaked, Chris gave in and said he would broil the steaks in the oven.

I would have no such thing. "I don't think so! We just spent $25 for steaka and we're going to ruin them in the oven. These HAVE to be grilled."

Per my criterion as stated above, I couldn't go out in my sweats. So at nine o'clock at night, in my favorite pair of cords (the afternoon's jeans were in the wash) we found ourselves in the car to exchange the tank at Stop & Shop's Blue Rhino.

$20 later and soaked to the bone we got back to the house.

Chris with umbrella in hand lit the grill whilst I jumped back into my comfy-clothes, tended to the fireplace and poured myself a glass of wine.

In front of the hearth both of us back in our elastic waistbands and watching an episode of House Hunters on HGTV, we enjoyed our steaks, especially the mushroom risotto and fresh asparagus that complemented it. We had to guard it from Bandit for he was looking to live up to his name.

Suddenly the night became worth all the aggravation.


madtexter said...

There's nothing weird about that. We go to great lengths to ensure food is not just for eating. IT IS AN EXPERIENCE! And it sounds like you sure had one. I bet those steaks tasted even better, didn't they?

And presentation is EVERYTHING...not just what's on the plate, but what's on you as well!


Lemuel said...

Fr. Rick, forgive me, for I have sinned. ;) I have been known to "run out" wearing sweat pants (but not loungewear nor slippers). I usually will wear jeans so that I have pockets for my wallet and things. :)

A Lewis said...

We ran out of propane in the middle of grilled chicken about six weeks ago....ugh. So, i just went and filled that bad boy up about two weeks ago...just in case we wanted to grill anything over the winter.

Rick said...

It's the pajama bottoms out in public that drive me crazy. Sweatpants are fine.

Ur-spo said...

I long for the days when people 'dressed up'
I think we would feel better about ourselves and treat each other better.

Steven said...

I'll go out on my property in lounge wear, but when I'm off my property, that would be a "no-no!" I recall being told that I get "too dressed up" to go grocery shopping Saturday mornings.