I don't know if it's ever been more important for me to wear pants.
I mean, sure, was it important for me to be wearing pants when I got married? Yeah. And was it important for me to wear pants when I was in school teaching kids? You bet, says the law.
Maybe I overstated my case when I kicked off. Fine. But still. It's very important for me to wear pants right now.
I hate to admit it, but structure is good for me. As much as I'd like to envision myself as an adventurous, free-spirit type, I'm a creature of habit. I operate best when I have a routine.
This whole stay-at-home-and-don't-show-up-to-work thing? It's proven that I've gotta get up, put real pants on, put a shirt on that isn't the shirt I've been wearing for three days, put my contacts in, and look like I'm semi-ready to actually go out in public even though I fully plan to sit in my basement for most of the day.
Because if I don't—
if I stay in sweatpants, if I keep my shirt on that reads "BACKSTREET'S BACK ALRIGHT" (and yes, this is a real shirt I own and wear regularly around the house and occasionally out of the house, and yes, as an English teacher it bothers me that it says "alright" instead of "all right," but man do I love the shirt anyway), if I keep my glasses on that are permanently crooked and make everything look a little hazy because the prescription's old—
I will do as I'm dressed: which is to say, I will be in a perpetual state of non-work for most of the day.
Gone are the days where I had to wake up at 5 a.m. and get outside and have fifty minutes in my car to myself to gather my thoughts, prepare for the day, establish myself.
No longer. So I need to put jeans on.
I need a clean shirt. I need to see properly. I come downstairs, I take Perry the pug out, I make some coffee, I come down to my basement office space, I get the lighting just right, and I sit.
I pray. I think. I ground myself. I pull out my journal (shoutout to the Bullet Journal method for organizing my whole life), and I start writing out what I need to do that day. I think some more. I sip some coffee. And now I'm ready to go.
I need to dress for the headspace I want to be in, not the headspace (or the circumstances) I’m in.
I know we can't all do that. Space limitations, kids, schedule, all that—we all have our situations.
For me, though, it starts by putting on my pants. Real ones.