Creature of Habit

On Tuesday, Rocky went nuts-O as I pulled on my jeans to go to class. Kinda cute at first, and then I had a moment of unfortunate self-discovery: I have managed to classically condition my dog to recognize that pants = leaving; no pants = home.

Of course, this wasn't much of a surprise. I have known for a long time that as soon as I come through the door, I shed clothes with the intensity of a Husky's fur in June, with shoes and belt being the first to go. (When I worked in DC, it was pantyhose.) This is not to say that these items would be left by the front door. On the contrary, many mornings, then and now, have been spent trying to track down said items because the night before, I would come home, get caught up doing something, realize I'd be much more comfortable without the belt/pantyhose/socks/pants, remove the offending item(s) and leave them right where I took them off. Of course, when I needed to put them on again (usually as I was running late for work or school the next day), I could never remember where I left them and would spend a few frantic minutes scrambling around the house trying to locate them.

Last week, I reached a new low of losing my favorite bra for a couple days. It turned up in my workout room (which says a lot about how much time I spend in there). My scanner is in that room, and I took the thing off while I was scanning a chapter to post online for a class I teach. (Really, nothing sucks the joy out of scanning documents like a harness of female oppression.)

Further evidence of my mindlessness in the home was the time I lost the TV remote in the refrigerator for a day. I went to the fridge with the remote in one hand and opened the door with the other. Needing a free hand to grab the grub, I simply put the remote down on the shelf rather than letting go of the door.

Oy.

Anyway, sometime between last fall and this month, my chronic belt-losing (usual suspect/locations: kitchen table, end table, computer room, master bathroom) evolved into pants-losing (usual locations: guest bathroom, under the coffee table). Since school started up again, my pants tend to be under the coffee table most.

Socks never used to present the same kind of problem because (a) I have lots of them, and (b) I tend to leave them in the exact same place: under my computer desk. When I run out of socks, I go fish them out from among the cords and wires and throw them in the wash. This, too has changed. I've begun finding them smashed between/under the couch cushions. Why? Because I sleep on the couch most nights and kick my socks off while snuggled under my blankie.

As if being a whirling dervish of clothes shedding weren't bad enough, Rocky's response to my putting on of pants alerted me to the concentration of shed clothing in and around the couch. This, coupled with the multi-day abandonment of my bra in the workout room is just a little too much for me to accept.

In my defense, in lieu of exercise and online activity, I have been super gung-ho about school for the first time since, well, undergrad (this is a HUGE deal).

Read: There is still a chance that I'm not a total loser, right? RIGHT?!?!