I sense the lesson you expect: learning to take your time, everything happens for a reason, pain is beauty, prevention is the best cure. Nope. Not one of these lessons did I learn. You see, I ripped my pants. The humiliation of falling, the pain of a bloody knee, the fact that I almost missed the bus, all was erased by the fact that, momentarily, I thought I had ripped and ruined my pantaloons. Indeed, there is a large tear below the right knee. But then I considered my options. Ripped jeans are in style now: why not ripped dress pants? I could cut them off above the knee and make shorts. Au courant, n'est pas? Or...I could patch them and strut my stuff. I chose to strut my stuff.
However, when I went to the fabric store (and Wal-mart, and the seamstress), it was near impossible to track down a decent patch. I had pictured something funky - a cute paisley, perhaps a Scottish plaid, maybe a vintage floral? The only thing I could find besides boring taupes and beiges was an iron-on camouflage print. Not even a hot pink. So be it.
It made me think: nobody mends things anymore. The word is barely part of our modern lexicon. Just yesterday I bought a new CD player (yes, a CD player. I still haven't figured out how to work a MP3 player, or a blackberry, or Facebook...come to think of it, it's a wonder I'm even blogging...). My old boom box (another one to preserve in the lexicon) died. So did I take it to the stereo repair shop? Nope - I wouldn't even know where to take it or if professional tradespeople even fix it anymore. Any why would I bother? It's cheaper to buy a new one.
So my lesson learned? Another one my Papa has been trying to teach for years - 'wear out the oldest first'.