Sgt G. was cleaning our bedroom, and he comes out folding some hunter orange pants. He is finally getting all his hunting stuff out of our bedroom and stored back out in the garage until fall.
Me: Wait, are those new pants? (tags still hanging on them....I am quite the detective). When did you get those?
G: These are those ones I bought on sale...we've had this discussion.
Me: Didn't you just buy pants last year? I swear with the money you spend on hunting stuff....
G: No I didn't just buy pants last year. The only orange pants I had were the first pair my dad got me about 15 years ago. I'm going to give them to Motormouth.
He holds them up and they do look like they would fit a nine year old easier than they would fit him.
G: I bought this shirt last year (he holds up another hunter orange object)
Me: (peering into the storage tub) huh. Wait, are these the camo pants I wore when we took the kids sledding? (I don't own a pair of snowpants....which is why you don't ever see pictures of me sledding with the kids....I look like Backwoods Barbie) Or are these new pants too?
G: No, those are not new, and those are not the ones you wore. Those have suspenders. You wore my camo coverall set.
Me: So, you have two pairs of camo pants for hunting?
G: (slowly) yeeeessss.
Me: Oh, wait. I get it. It's like shoes.
Me: Your hunting stuff. It's your version of women's shoes. You know, you have all this stuff when just one or two things would do. I don't get why you spend money on this and everything in here looks pretty much the same to me.
G: You got me. These are my women's shoes.