Time for a New Coat

My husband couldn't care less about the clothes he wears. He tends to wear only a few favorite items, over and over, until I quietly throw the ragged things out, at which point he picks a single replacement for the discarded item. Normally this is a sweet, quaint trait, one of the many things I love about him.

There is one favorite clothing item of his that is neither sweet nor quaint. I have dubbed it his “flasher coat”. You know the type- scruffy tan overcoat, stained and baggy, belt dragging and never buttoned. He has other more presentable coats, but the flasher coat is the one he likes best for formal occasions or routine business excursions. I have considered throwing the thing away, but since this particular incident it has become a family heirloom of sorts.

Here’s what happened:

On this particular weekly trip to the surplus bread store to buy bread for our family of nine, he happened to wear his flasher coat.

“Will you be taking the senior discount?” innocently asked the cashier, eying my 45 yr. old, frumpy husband with his ten loaves of bread. He quickly corrected her assessment of his age. In the meantime, another employee walked out of the store room.

“Hey, weren’t you the male stripper they hired for my surprise 50th birthday party?” she asked. Assured that no, that wasn’t him, she persisted. “But I KNOW I’ve seen you somewhere! You’re the guy who stands on the corner with the “Will Work for Food” sign, right?”

I never had to say a thing. But funny thing- he never wears that coat anymore!



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