It's a husband's sweatpants morning.
The black ones with the drawstring waste that are long enough to be makeshift slippers as I drag my feet across the cold morning floor to pour a bowl of honey nut chex (oh, honey nut chex, how I love thee!). They are roomy enough to give my lower half some breathing room and a much needed break from the cruel entrapments of girl pants. They smell like my hubby, which makes me feel a little closer to him as we are apart yet miss him that much more.
11:27 am and I am still lounging in them. Because every wife knows the secret I'm about to let you all in on...
husband's sweatpants are so much more comfortable than my own sweatpants (am I right?).
They are wonderful. But I would never just go out and buy a pair of men's sweatpants. That would be disappointingly different. They must remain his. And I must steal them.
That is the beauty of it all.