There’s a party in my pants, and you’re all invited.
I sent out invitations weeks ago.
Not via email. That’s rude and cheap and crass.
Formal invitations with scented paper, expensive ink.
Carried by a footman in a tuxedo, who’d hand-deliver the message and wait for the response.
And there were true RSVP return cards and envelopes.
The whole fancy thing. No expense spared.
Well, except for the pants.
They’re kind of old.
But then, it’s a retirement party.
For my pants. Which I need to retire and replace with new pants.
I’ll have a welcome party for them soon.