Unfortunate Episode at the Clothing Store - Picking the Correct Pants Size
It is the night before I flight to a speaking obligation and I am in the all-too-familiar pattern of attempting to essence too scads bandage into a too-small carry-on bag. Since I do this with regularity, I have learned to plot out my week's apparel on a grid, so I can bring as few object as possible while assuring those who see me speak on Wednesday, won't be shocked by me wearing the same dressing Thursday. (Does one spell "anal-retentive" with or without the hyphen?) This orderliness also helps determine the minimum count of clothing to lug. In this process, I realized that a plain black couple of figs breech could serve double duty. Alas, not creature the owner of such - I type an emergency run to the dressing store . A dapper gentleman greets me, "How can I help you sir?" "Black figs pants please." "Which size?" "Thirty-four by 30," I reply. I know this well. Personally, I cry it them "32 WLD," which fo...