And it allows me to talk about myself. Now, I actually love pants quite a bit (just love not wearing them more) but on Saturday, rushing off to meet with a researcher at UCSF at 7am then staying up late for warehouse shenanigans meant a very long time in pants. Tight pants! I could not wait to shed them at the end of the day. At 2am, I became the first to cave and look for a bed and change into PJs. Piano singalongs kept me up for another hour but at least I was in flannel. When the sun came up the next day, I learned many things about sleepovers in a warehouse, where people sprawled on couches and sleeping bags as they saw fit. Like how a bed and pillow might look comfortable in the wee hours but not in the early morning when you see wisps of blonde hair all over the pillow. And how I was the only one wearing pajama pants, because boys just stripped off their pants to go to bed (in boxers- though I wish everyone had brought pjs). It's bad enough that men get 30 cents on the dollar in earnings, but extra freedom from pants, too? So unfair.
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