The Housecoat:

I moved into this bachelor pad about three months ago. Since it apparently takes me more than three months to unpack all my stuff, there are still boxes in my apartment. The funny thing is, I'm moving again, so it seems like some of my stuff is already packed.

This would be a good thing. Except, I'm an idiot.

I've unpacked much of what was already packed, simply so I can have the vicarious thrill of packing it again. This is what a dog must feel like when he eats his own barf.

(Yeah, I just compared unpacking stuff and then instantly repacking it to a dog eating his own vomit. If any of you are wondering why I'm single after reading a sentence like that... please post your phone number and a recent photograph in the comments section, because I would like to meet you.)

Anyways, while unpacking all my old shit, I discovered an old friend. And like the good friend that he is, he was protecting my old nintendo from damage. Yes, wrapped around my ancient NES was that rarest of rares - the comfy, worn-in housecoat.

For those that don't know, the housecoat is sort of like an accessory for lazy shut-ins. It is a vital piece of wardrobe for bachelors and the socially inept, a costume necessity in much the same way that superheroes require capes, chefs require absurd hats, the french require striped shirts, and mullet people require wrestling t-shirts.

Wearing a housecoat, shut-ins such as myself are well suited for picking up the mail wearing nothing else but shorts and wool socks. They are fit for cleaning up minor spills while cooking without having to get a cloth. And, if they're at all like me, they never have to worry about finding their capo or a spare pick while they play guitar, because not only is the housecoat super comfy - it also has pockets, yo.

Alas, the coat had a darkside, too - as anyone who has seen The Big Lebowski knows, frequent wearing of the housecoat inevitably leads to someone pissing all over your rug, both metaphorically and literally speaking. And so I put it away, for bigger and better things.

Not that it lasted. Because here I am again, wearing that old wardrobe necessity, feeling like some sort of flannel superhero. And, like any house-coat hero, I've completely put off packing in favour of sitting in front of the computer.

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