Dad has a Clean Clothes System, you see.
My 75-year-old Dad and my sister visited last weekend to celebrate my aunt's birthday and my sister's all in one visiting binge.
The system - we are sitting around the table talking and Dad mentions that he always has clean clothes now, that he in fact has most of his clothes in the closet and ready to go at a moment's notice because he did all his laundry at once, hung them up, and he just has a set he can put on to leave the apartment to run errands, and how long does that take?
This eliminates that silliness of generating a new set of shirt, pants, undershirt, boxers and socks to be washed every day. He's thought about this, you see, now that he's retired and has had time to think.
But what about the set you wear around the apartment? Oh, I just go naked in the apartment. But you still have to wash the boxers and socks, say I, thinking I have found a functional flaw in The System. No, says Dad, I just go naked in the apartment.
*pause as I finally take his meaning*
Dad, they're gonna start calling you That Naked Guy on the Third Floor, you know.
Well, I put on some clothes to answer the door, he rebuts.
Then, as I am sitting there a little open-mouthed, he and Sis get into a discussion of how, living alone, you just sometimes go naked because you may. Sis mentions our former friend Dave who was so delighted to get his own apartment high in the sky, so he could wander around its fluffily-carpeted rooms in the alltogether. And she does it, too. I am apparently the lone person on the Earth who, when afforded the opportunity, fails to do household chores in the buff. Hm.
***camera focuses on bec's eyes, then swoops in through her pupils to another scene:
Exterior. Daylight. 17 stories up.
A high-rise filled with naked vacuumers, folders of laundry, toilet-scrubbers, magazine-thumbers seen through windows, then zoom into the building. There is a naked guy standing at his kitchen counter making a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich on wheat toast.
cut to: A naked granny pouring out Purina Cat Chow for her kitties; a few bits bounce dryly onto the worn linoleum floor near her naked ancient toes.
cut to: A teleworker on a naked conference call is tapping the end of a pen against his lower lip as he listens. He is wearing a baseball cap with the company logo for inspiration; it's his work suit when he's at home.
*shakes head to clear it*
The system - we are sitting around the table talking and Dad mentions that he always has clean clothes now, that he in fact has most of his clothes in the closet and ready to go at a moment's notice because he did all his laundry at once, hung them up, and he just has a set he can put on to leave the apartment to run errands, and how long does that take?
This eliminates that silliness of generating a new set of shirt, pants, undershirt, boxers and socks to be washed every day. He's thought about this, you see, now that he's retired and has had time to think.
But what about the set you wear around the apartment? Oh, I just go naked in the apartment. But you still have to wash the boxers and socks, say I, thinking I have found a functional flaw in The System. No, says Dad, I just go naked in the apartment.
*pause as I finally take his meaning*
Dad, they're gonna start calling you That Naked Guy on the Third Floor, you know.
Well, I put on some clothes to answer the door, he rebuts.
Then, as I am sitting there a little open-mouthed, he and Sis get into a discussion of how, living alone, you just sometimes go naked because you may. Sis mentions our former friend Dave who was so delighted to get his own apartment high in the sky, so he could wander around its fluffily-carpeted rooms in the alltogether. And she does it, too. I am apparently the lone person on the Earth who, when afforded the opportunity, fails to do household chores in the buff. Hm.
***camera focuses on bec's eyes, then swoops in through her pupils to another scene:
Exterior. Daylight. 17 stories up.
A high-rise filled with naked vacuumers, folders of laundry, toilet-scrubbers, magazine-thumbers seen through windows, then zoom into the building. There is a naked guy standing at his kitchen counter making a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich on wheat toast.
cut to: A naked granny pouring out Purina Cat Chow for her kitties; a few bits bounce dryly onto the worn linoleum floor near her naked ancient toes.
cut to: A teleworker on a naked conference call is tapping the end of a pen against his lower lip as he listens. He is wearing a baseball cap with the company logo for inspiration; it's his work suit when he's at home.
*shakes head to clear it*