The Wrong Trousers

As soon as I picked them up, I knew they were the wrong trousers, but my imagination already had hold of the vision and swept into fantasy mode.  It's me wearing these cool white trousers, looking pristine and summery; the sun is shining, there are tweety birds and my hair is all swooshy too (that's how I know it's a fantasy) there's a fuzzy glow that you get in those dream sequences where everything looks great.

(of course that picture isn't me ha ha ha ha!)


Suddenly my brain says (in a Monty Python way) 'STOP THAT!'  - Of course I can't own these trousers - they are WHITE.

I am a Olympic Gold standard clumsy clutz, wearing white trousers would just simply be too tempting for the Goddess of Stains and Splashes who visits my life daily.  I can see her planning her mishap of beetroot right now.

I will brush past my dirty car, drop some food in my lap, have the cat jump on my knees with dirty paws and that's before I have Leia's sticky hands  ..................

I DO like them; how can I wear these lovely white trousers, while at the same time keeping them as far away from me as possible?

Before I knew what I'd done I'd paid for the trousers and was walking away with them in a bag.  I am determined to be one of those women who can wear white trousers.  Well I'll give it a go anyway.

So I can wear them, but not go anywhere, sit, eat, drink, be near anyone or do anything.  Or I can just carry on being my clumsy self and have the industrial strength bleach on stand by.

So - Bets are on for the time it takes to mark/blemish/stain/smudge (including minus times - there is a possibility they could get dirty before I actually put them on)