#352 – Pants First, Then Dog

One of my favorite cartoons depicted an idiot getting dressed in the morning, while gazing at a bedside instruction sheet containing the words: “pants first, then shoes.”  Contemplating that moron has never failed to crack me up, until today that is, when I found the proverbial shoe on the other foot.

I caught a doozie of a cold this week, and it’s devolved into congestion and a hacking cough which won’t let me sleep.   After an entire night tossing and turning, I made an appointment with my primary care physician yesterday.   The helpful M.D. prescribed a syrup which – he assured me – would knock out my cough and me.  “This stuff will make you loopy, Richard,” he cautioned.  “So be careful with it, and whatever you do, don’t drive!”

I’d never heard of the drug my doctor prescribed, “Tussionex.”  According to its literature, one of the medicine’s active ingredients is hydrocodone, a narcotic cough suppressant.  I suppose I should’ve read that literature before swallowing some last night.  Instead, I simply interpreted the indicated dosage as a recommended amount for an average cough.  My symptoms felt anything but average, so I guestimated my proper dosage as nearly double the suggested quantity.

On the plus side, I didn’t cough once and I slept like a baby.   On the minus side, I awoke two hours later than normal and even then only due to Prometheus’ barking.  I’d never felt groggier than the moment I stumbled out of bed today.

Due to the dog’s still-injured leg, I have to carry him everywhere and keep him on leash for bathroom breaks.  Even in my muddled state, I could tell he desperately needed to go out.  His insistent arfs so distracted me I removed him from his crate and toted him outside without donning my glasses … or pants.

In my befuddled condition, I didn’t even realize the cause of my blurred vision, and I barely registered the absence of pants.  I did, however, become aware of one other item I’d omitted in my haste to lead Prometheus to “potty land.”  You see, I sleep in the nude, and underwear ordinarily becomes the first clothing I step into each morning.  The cool breeze massaging my dangling berries alerted me to an apparent exception to the norm.

I’m still waiting to hear the repercussions from my inadvertent streak through the neighborhood.  So far, no neighbors have dropped by to call me a pervert, and no sheriff’s officer has yet issued me a citation for indecent exposure.  Nonetheless, I’ve already taken steps to ensure that no repeat performance occurs tomorrow morning.  Inspired by the idiot in the cartoon, I’ve drafted these written instructions for myself and taped them to my bathroom mirror:

            1. Glasses
            2. Underwear
            3. Pants
            4. Then, Dog!


Gets the job done, and then some!

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