Barely presentable

I don’t know if it’s the months of social distancing or simply old age, but I’m barely presentable in public these days.

My wife keeps telling me to zip up my pants. Not that I’m embarrassed to be unzipped in front of her, however, I doubt she’s the only to have noticed. I fear I’ll soon be known as that old dude who doesn’t zip up his pants.

At least I’ve been keeping to myself. For many years I covered prep and college basketball for the Livingston Enterprise, the Bozeman Chronicle, and the Phillips County News. In that capacity I was usually given the best seat in the house, right on the floor, where, while standing for the National Anthem, I always felt on display, and always checked to see if my pants were zipped up.

As far as I know they always were, but there remained a fear that in front of a crowd of thousands, folks would start to mutter: Hey! Look at that guy. His pants are unzipped!”

At least I’m now at an age where it’s a bit more forgivable.

If that wasn’t disturbing enough, I’ve recently begun to catch myself waiting for a reply while talking to my dogs. I’ve always talked to the dogs, but the pandemic has limited my conversations with other humans. Occasionally someone will holler at me over the fence when I’m working in the garden and we’ll visit for a bit, but that’s becoming increasingly rare as the garden grows taller and I become harder to see.

So I’ll ask Jem or Ace what they think about this or that and then catch myself waiting for an answer.

I’ve even berated them for what I considered an inappropriate response when there’s a good chance I simply didn’t hear them correctly.

That’s a whole other issue. My hearing, along with my dogs’ hearing is just about gone. Too much gunfire for too many years has turned me into an Emily Litella. I mis-hear everything, at least that’s what my dogs tell me.

I worry that when this is all over and we get back to some sort of normal I won’t be normal at all. I’ll be that old guy who argues politics with his dogs and never zips up his pants.

I promise I’ll try to stay in my own yard.

Parker Heinlein is at [email protected].