It was a morning of frump. A day when you are getting ready for work and all of your clothes look downright frumpy. Yep, if you put those clothes on, you will look like crap. A disappointment to yourself and society. The embodiment of frumpiness. Clothes that just say, “I’ve given up. How are you doing?”

The only solution. The only way out. The suit. I decided to go all out. Black suit and red tie, it would be. I would look good and it would also say, “Damn, either Dave’s avoiding ‘the frump’ or he’s got a job interview.” I was going to look good. To Hell with frump.

Spying my black suit coat, I looked for my black dress pants. Oh snap, thwarted again. They were in the hamper. Frump had the upper hand. Sad, I approached my black suit coat. If nothing else, I could imaging myself looking like anything other than complete and total garbage.

Taking my suit coat off of its hanger, I stood in shock. There underneath was a pair of new black dress pants, tags still on, and even tailored. I had no memory of this pants purchase. It had to have been many months ago. I hurriedly shimmied on my find and, my friend, I tell you what, they fit spectacular. They hung in just the right ways, they draped it all good, they made my butt look fine, and having been at one point tailored, they were the perfect length.

It appears as if life had smiled on me. Months ago, I had made a wise choice. Pants purchased in the past had saved me in the present. The frump had been defeated for today.