Roll out the flannel

(Editor's note: I'm jumping the gun a little here, but the blustery taste of autumn we're getting in Redding made me think of this ode to flannel.)

That crisp snap in the air marks the arrival of our favorite time of year: Flannel Shirt Season.

During the hot months, we all go around dressed as if we’re on our way to Physical Education class. But in autumn, the flannel shirt replaces (or layers over) the ubiquitous T-shirt, briefly turning the whole nation into lumberjacks. During the seasonal window between cutoffs and heavy coats, the fluffy flannel shirt is the ideal garment.

Unless you live where it’s really cold and/or work outdoors, a flannel shirt is all you need on most days (though pants are a good idea, too). When you go outside, you’re usually only exposed to the elements for those few minutes between indoors and in-the-car and indoors again. Why bother with a jacket?

When it gets colder, a flannel shirt is perfect for layering, especially if you like the “grunge” look or own a skateboard.

Unless it’s a formal occasion, you never really have to tuck in a flannel shirt. This is important to those of us who are equatorially challenged.

Most flannel shirts have two pockets, often with flaps, giving the wearer room to carry around a lot of unnecessary stuff.

Lumberjacks are cool. Ditto Eddie Vedder.

Wearing flannel shirts indoors means you can keep the climate-control settings a little lower, and save on your utility bills. For further information, see “Domestic Harmony and the Treaty of Thermostat,” Lawrence F. Hongenecker, 1989.

Flannel shirts last a long, long time and always look pretty decent, right up to the point where your elbows poke through the worn fabric. And for another two years beyond that, if you wear the sleeves rolled up. You can cut off the sleeves altogether, but only if you’re willing to be mistaken for Larry the Cable Guy.

How do you know when a flannel shirt is too worn to go out in public? When passers-by keep trying to give you nickels. Time for that flannel shirt to take on a new life as a “rag.”

Flannel shirts were embraced early on by those of us who work at home. We don’t have to worry about a dress code, so we gravitate toward the most comfortable clothing. We recognized that there’s a reason why they make pajamas out of soft flannel.

Flannel shirts are legal pajamas. You can answer the door, run to the store, be seen by your children’s teachers, all while wearing your jammies. If people notice you’re rumpled, they’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. They’ll say to themselves: Maybe he’s a lumberjack.

The danger, of course, is when you start wearing the same shirt around the clock. If you’re already in your comfy pajama shirt, there’s really no reason to change for bed. Then you get up the next morning and, what do you know, you’re dressed already. This can go on for days. Pretty soon, you’re giving a whole new meaning to “grunge.”

Pair your favorite flannel shirt with sweatpants, and you never have to change again. Every day’s a round-the-clock pajama party.

Caution: You can wear that get-up out of the house only if you utilize drive-thru windows. If you see anybody you know, wave and zoom away. But don’t get out of the car. Nobody looks good in sweatpants. Trust me.

Maybe some flannel trousers, though. Loose, comfortable. Something in a nice plaid to match your lumberjack shirt. Wait, that’s pajamas again.

Note to self: Idea for a successful business -- Drive-thru Pajamas. Seasonal sales on flannel shirts. Hmm. Sleep on it.

Cutting costs

INTERNAL MEMO
To: Members of the Household
From: Chief Financial Officer

Nationwide, the economy’s in real trouble, and that’s reflected here at local headquarters. Costs are rising and income isn’t keeping up. High gasoline and food prices have taken their toll, and inflation is now spreading to other areas, such as tires and waistlines. It’s time to tighten our collective belts so we can survive these hard times without resorting to layoffs that could affect the whole family.

The following cost-cutting measures will be in force until further notice:

1) Out-of-control inflation at the supermarket means we must rely on simpler foods, such as those purchased at discount stores for less than a dollar. Think ramen noodles. Yum.

We’ll be looking for foods we can make from scratch. Yes, this is more time-consuming, but we’ll have plenty of time to cook now that we’ve canceled all fun activities. (See item 5).

We’ll also keep a lower inventory of food on hand. If you get hungry enough, maybe you’ll finally consume those canned goods that have sat in the back of the pantry since 1993.

2) Utility costs are on the rise, and we can all do our part by keeping lights turned off and using less air-conditioning. Sweating is good for you. And reading in low light builds up your eye muscles.

3) We’ll cut spending on extravagances such as new school clothes. You kids only want to wear your old, ratty clothes anyway, and now you’ll get that opportunity. If colors are faded or you’re tired of the patterns, we’ll dye all your clothes black and tell everyone you’re “Goth” or "emo.” You’ll have to act angry and/or sad all the time, but that shouldn’t be difficult now that we’re poor.

4) School supplies will be provided by household members who have access to corporate office-supply closets and who can exercise the venerated “five-finger discount.” Students should pay special attention to the combinations of nearby lockers.

5) Entertainment costs must be contained. Why pay full price for “The Dark Knight” when you can watch perfectly fine old movies such as “The Ghost and Mr. Chicken” on TV for free? Better yet, curl up with a book from the library.

Dining out is verboten, effective immediately. Public liquor consumption should be confined to “happy hour.” Private alcohol consumption may increase during these hard economic times, resulting in deferred costs, such as detox and/or rehab.

6) Houseplants cost water and time and provide little in return. The ingrates. Starting now, houseplants will gradually be replaced by herbs and other edible plants, such as wheat.

7) Lawn and garbage services will be suspended, replaced by the newest member of our household team, Sweetums the goat. I hope you all will join me in welcoming Sweetums aboard, but keep your distance because she bites.

8) Other so-called “pets” are put on notice that they need to start pulling their weight around here. Otherwise, they run the risk of becoming “lunch.”

9) Transportation costs simply must come down. Car trips will be restricted to those that are absolutely necessary. Household members who need additional travel should undertake it at their own expense. Or use alternative methods such as hitchhiking. This is why God gave you thumbs, people.

That is all for now. If the recession deepens, additional cutbacks may be required. But if we all pitch in and help contain costs, perhaps we won’t have to sell the children to a passing carnival.

Thank you.

Curve balls in my pajamas

Because my “beat” is life in the home office, I keep my Internet search-crawler thingies set to hunt for news on the-ever-more-popular option of working in one’s pajamas.

This sometimes turns up Web sites that aren’t what I intended, but lingerie is always fascinating, too.

Recently, an item called “Marshall Loeb’s Daily Money Tip” from Marketwatch.com popped up on my computer screen. The article by magazine big-shot Marshall Loeb is headlined: “Stay on Track Working From Home.” It warns that “the ease of working from home can throw a curve ball in the career path,” then gives five tips for succeeding in a home office, all aimed at taking the job more seriously and striking a “healthy balance” between work and home life.

After 11 years toiling in a home office, linked to the world by computer cable, I feel I am eminently qualified to say: Hahaha on that, Mr. Loeb.

First of all, sir, working at home is not a career “curve ball.” It’s a slider. People often make that mistake.

Secondly, people who work in regular offices in our crappy economy can’t seem to strike a “healthy balance” between work and home, either. Why should anyone expect that of us at-home types? Just because we don’t waste time commuting doesn’t mean we manage our time any better than anybody else. I’m still late, everywhere I go, there’s more work to do all the time, and my children think my name is “Gimme Money.” I’m just like you.

Thirdly, you urge at-home workers to take their jobs more seriously, to treat them like regular jobs. You are clearly missing the whole point, sir. Rules and dress codes and pinhead bosses are the reasons we left the regular workplace and went home. We don’t need to inflict those restraints on ourselves.

Still, some might benefit from seeing Mr. Loeb’s ideas for success, so I’ll pass them along. With comment.

“1. Separate your work space from the rest of your home and spend time in it only when you are working.”
This is wonderful advice for those who have spare rooms and padlocks, but I disagree with your next assertion that “kids and spouses do not belong there.” What if spouses share an office? What if children insist on running around the house, making noise and messes? That’s why God invented headphones.

“2. Sit at your desk at the same time every day and keep normal business hours.”
Some of my best ideas come at 3 a.m. I get up and I write them down right away. I can always nap later.

“3. Dress in a way that will help you feel professional.”
Mr. Loeb adds, “it helps to get out of your pj’s and put on a crisp shirt.”

No, it does not. Physical comfort frees the mind. I do all my best work in pajamas. I’m wearing pajamas right now. Mwah-ha-ha-hah.

“4. Disregard house chores until the end of the business day.”
Okey-doke. How about if I disregard them until Saturday?

“5. If your work does not require constant access to e-mail, turn off your e-mail program and check messages only at scheduled times.”
Turn off my e-mail? But I require constant access. I need nonstop incoming stimuli while I sit at the computer all day. Also, jokes from friends.

I need my computer sifting through all the information in the entire world and delivering to me items like “Marshall Loeb’s Daily Money Tip.”

Such informational articles are very helpful. They help me disregard my house chores.

Shopping (& sobbing) for back-to-school clothes

This time of year, all across the country, parents quietly weep in department store aisles because they're shopping for new school clothes.

Hang around the mall during back-to-school season and here's what you find: Parent pulls garment off rack and says, "How about this?" Child turns up nose, rolls eyes, snorts, etc… Flustered parent tries repeatedly with same results. Finally, parent surrenders and allows child to make a selection. Parent's reaction: "Oh, my GAWD! Are you kidding me?" Then the process starts over again.

Younger children often can be bought off -- they'll wear anything as long as it's decorated with the proper licensed action figure or Disney character.

But rebellious teens want only those clothes that draw their parents' disapproval. No matter how hip you may be as a parent, your teen will find some garment that turns your stomach. This article of clothing, naturally, becomes the child's absolute favorite.

Conversely, any garment the parent chooses will be deemed way too square and will be hidden under the child's bed until the child outgrows it.

It's always been this way. I remember shopping for clothes with my mom, back in those halcyon days between Woodstock and disco, and it always resulted in a tearful argument. In those days, we kids got our wardrobe cues from our schoolmates, who were quick to let us know when we were dressed like geeks.

(How strong was that peer pressure? Let's just say that I owned a pair of platform shoes, even though I'm already so tall I have to duck through doorways.)

Nowadays, teens look beyond their peers when deciding what is cool. They get their clothing cues from the rock stars on MTV.

For males, this means clothes so baggy that, if the average boy whirls around suddenly, his clothes remain facing the other direction. (This is why so many kids today seem to wear their clothes backward, though it doesn't explain why their baseball caps always point the wrong way.)

For females, current fashion requires the opposite. Their clothes must be so tight that their eyes bulge slightly, giving them that surprised Valley Girl look. A whole generation of young women do not know what it means to be comfortable in a T-shirt. Girls also want bare midriffs and low-slung jeans and giant clunky shoes. They want to look like pop divas, all of whom dress like hookers.

These fashion choices make parents froth at the mouth, which, of course, is the whole point.

But parents have a new ally in the Clothing Wars. Many schools have adopted dress codes that ban outlandish fashions. These dress codes -- aimed at stemming gang activity and classroom distractions -- outlaw "sagging" and bare midriffs and dangerous jewelry.

Parents should carry these dress codes along when they take their kids shopping. They can use them as ammunition when arguing about the appropriateness of giant pants or see-through blouses.

When that doesn't work, parents can use those absorbent pages to wipe away their tears.

Wash and wear and tear

If cleanliness is next to godliness, then why does laundry so often seem like a little slice of Hell?

Laundry, like a lot of household chores, is never finished. You wash clothes, you dry clothes, you neatly hang them in a closet. Then somebody comes along and wears them, and you must start all over again.

Doing laundry resembles the eternal punishment of Sisyphus in Greek mythology, whose job in Hades was to roll a heavy stone up a hill only to have it roll back to the bottom. Every time. Forever.

Sisyphus didn't have to worry that someone might've left a leaky ballpoint pen in a pocket of the heavy stone. But such danger exists in any household that includes laundry and children.

The other day, I found a scrunched-up candy wrapper in the bottom of the washer. A wrapper that clearly, until very recently, had contained actual candy. (As opposed to the endless number of empty wrappers that usually turn up.)

Closer examination found that every garment in the load was streaked with chocolate. Repeated washings got out most of the stains, but what should've been a quick load of laundry became an all-day exercise in rolling that rock up that hill.

I wanted to blame my two sons for the candy fiasco. (Actually, I wanted to beat them with wet blue jeans, but other members of the household deemed that a bit harsh.) The truth is, though, that the blame rests solely with the manufacturers of today's trousers.

Have you looked at boys' clothes lately? Each pair of pants now comes equipped with an average of 47 zippered pockets. That's a conservative estimate, and may be a tad low.

Parents of boys know to check every pocket of every garment before tossing it into the washer. This is because boys tend to load their pockets with gravel and homework papers and leaky pens and toys and candy and live frogs. Now, with so many pockets involved, you're almost certain to overlook one. And that pocket, according to Murphy's Law, will be the one containing the live frog.

Contemporary fashions also dictate that boys wear pants so baggy that entire Bedouin families could reside within them. Two pairs of these giant pants can make an entire load. And, at 47 pockets per pair, well, you get the picture.

As they get older, kids change their clothes more often. I don't know what it's like for daughters, but here's how it works with boys: When they're pre-schoolers, they have one or two favorite garments and refuse to wear anything else. A 5-year-old boy is perfectly willing to stand around naked while you wash his Superman shirt rather than slip into something clean.

But once boys reach a certain age -- around the time they decide that maybe girls don't have "cooties" after all -- they are driven by instinct to change clothes every few minutes to remain fashionably "cool." Some garments are worn so briefly they're not even dirty. Yet enough time has elapsed to fill the pockets with leaky pens and frogs. Go figure.

Why, you might ask, don't I make my boys do their own laundry? Why not let them wash their clothes separately and be responsible for their own pocket checks? And if they do laundry the same slapdash way they do other chores, why not let them suffer the consequences?

Good questions. My only answer is: Do we, as a society, really want frogs to become endangered species?

How many light bulbs does it take to change clothes?

Sometimes, illumination isn't such a good thing.

I recently changed a light bulb (insert joke here), and it's going to end up costing me money.

That's because the light bulb was in my walk-in closet. When I replaced it, I discovered that the dead bulb dated from before we moved into this house, four years ago.

The previous homeowner had used a dim bulb -- 40 watts, something like that. I installed a new 100-watt bulb and the closet suddenly was filled with bright light.

Here's what I discovered in this newly illuminated space: None of my clothes match. And many of them bear the faint traces of old food stains.

I also found the closet was covered in dust and pocket lint and other litter that had accumulated there in the half-light. Much of this detritus was on my clothes.

How did this occur? Well, for one thing, I've essentially been dressing in the dark for the past four years -- who knew? For another, I work at home, which means my clothes don't get trotted out into the daylight very often.

Those of us who work at home tend to wear the same items over and over. A bathrobe, for instance. A favorite pair of ratty jeans. Ancient T-shirts announcing tours by long-dead rock stars. Sweats. If no one is going to see us all day, what difference does it make? Why not be comfortable?

On occasion, we work-at-home types must go out into the greater world, and this requires decent clothing. Then we have to sort through our closets for shirts and slacks and dress shoes. Preferably, these garments will have no major holes or stains or depictions of beer. But that's not easy to detect in a tight space lit only by a dusty 40-watt bulb.

Now that I've gotten a 100-watt look at my wardrobe, I find I must buy new clothes. This raises a fresh problem -- shopping.

I hate to shop for two reasons. One, I am a guy, and everyone knows guys have a genetic disposition against any kind of mall-trolling. Two, I'm a very large guy and my sizes are hard to find.

A typical clothes-buying excursion for me consists of frantically rifling through folded garments, trying to find something, anything, in size extra-large/tall, or XLT. (Doesn't XLT sounds like a racy car of some sort? Never mind.)

Stores don't carry that size. Oh, they might have a few items, but all the other XLT guys out there -- the ones who buy clothes more than once every five years -- have already snapped them up. As an XLT, I'm too large for your standard rack of clothes and not big enough for the Big-and-Tall men's stores, where you're required to have at least two XX's to even enter the wide door.

Shopping -- for an XLT guy who really wants to wear only rags anyway -- can be a frustrating, time-consuming experience that often results in the ingestion of large quantities of consoling beer.

My wife suggested I shop on-line, but I've had bad experiences there, too. Last winter, I splurged on a sweater on-line because it was on sale for half off. The color I selected was called something like "harvest gold." When the sweater arrived at my house, it turned out to be more like "autumn sneeze." Under fluorescent lights, it becomes "ultraviolet phlegm." It's not a garment I wear much, at least not anywhere that might have electric lights.

Since XLT clothes that aren't in funny colors tend to be expensive, changing that light bulb means I'll have to spend hundreds of dollars on new clothes if I ever expect to go out in public again.

But I've come up with a cheaper plan. I'm buying some 40-watt bulbs. Better to curse the darkness than to go shopping.

In fact, I think I'll put low-wattage bulbs throughout the house. Perhaps, in the resultant gloom, visitors won't be able to see the dust.

You dropped your pocket

As warmer weather arrives, many of us find ourselves suffering a severe shortage of pockets.

We're very busy people. Mobile. We need pockets for all our stuff as we hurry from place to place. As the slow strip-tease of spring takes us toward the island-castaway summer outfit of swimsuit and tank top and sandals, we have fewer and fewer pockets to go around.

It's a sign of sophisticated simplicity to go around with free hands. If you're not lugging a briefcase and a laptop and a cell phone everywhere you go, it means you've made some good choices in life. You haven't become a slave to business and its machines.

But we all have our stuff. Money. Sunglasses. Certain necessities like car keys that we need handy, yet in a safe place where the dog can't swallow them. And for these items we need pockets.

I travel light, but as I write this, I have the following in my pockets: wallet, comb, keyring, loose change, grocery list, checks and deposit slip for pending trip to the bank, blank paper (in case inspiration strikes), pen and business cards. And that's while I'm sitting here at my desk, phone and coffee cup within easy reach. Imagine if I needed to go outside.

I used to carry a Swiss Army knife, so I always had ready access to a corkscrew. Now there's no room in my pockets for it, so I've had to resign from the Swiss Army. Better not to be packing a knife these days anyway. Never know when you might get patted down.

What about people who carry more stuff? They've got it hanging all over them. Key chains jingling on belts and pagers clipped onto pockets and cell phones holstered on their hips. We're all starting to look like cops, the tools of our trade weighing down our belts.

(I saw a guy in a coffee shop the other day. He had the usual battery of high-tech toys on his belt, threatening to "pants" him, plus he wore a telephone headset and talked loudly as he weaved between tables. I'm thinking: Yeah, yeah, we're all impressed by what an important little businessman you are. But we'd be more impressed if you were so successful, you could afford to take a leisurely, phone-free coffee break.)

Once you pass the dangle limit, you must graduate to a purse or a book bag or a briefcase or a backpack or a llama. And life's responsibilities begin to weigh you down.

A note: Avoid the "fanny pack." Any item that includes the word "fanny" in its name is a bad fashion choice.

Some people try to solve the overflow of stuff by adding pockets. That's how "cargo pants" were born. They're very popular with boys, especially if at least one of the pockets is big enough to hold a live frog. But these pants are not for us middle-aged men. The big side pockets tend to emphasize the hips, which call enough attention to themselves already. (See "fanny pack" above.)

Now that it's warm, we'll soon go around in our cargo SHORTS, with ever more stuff crammed into fewer pockets, bulging out so much it looks like we're wearing bustles.

Have you seen the TV commercial for the stealth trousers that have cargo pockets hidden inside the legs? In the ad, a woman peers through X-ray glasses and can see the male model's cell phone and pager and other junk all zippered away in there alongside his thighs. She's VERY impressed by this, which is surprising when you consider what else she might be espying through his pants. Maybe Mr. Headset in the coffee shop knows something I don't.

It's time for a solution to the pocket shortage. It's time for America's technological and business geniuses to get together and design something that fits all our needs so we can continue to race headlong through life unencumbered.

I suggest utility belts, like Batman wears. All our little tools of life encapsulated in one snug package, everything miniaturized and computerized and labeled with cool bat logos. Strap that baby on with your swimsuit and you're ready for summer.

If someone can figure a way to include a cup holder, we'll pay extra.

Let's do lunch

For those of us who work at home, the occasional business lunch can be an opportunity to network with new contacts and develop strong, long-term business relationships. It's also an opportunity to fall flat on our faces into our oyster bisque.

At-home workers get out of practice when it comes to dining with others. We often spend the day in our pajamas, noshing on whatever's handy, washing it down with copious amounts of coffee. When you work all by yourself, no one's there to disapprove as you graze all day. If you want to eat Ding-Dongs for breakfast, so be it. Olives out of the jar make a dandy lunch you can eat right at the computer. And who needs a napkin when you're wearing absorbent flannel pajamas?

But when a boss or business contact summons us to a lunch out, we must mind our manners. Remember, a business lunch isn't about food. It's about making an impression. No matter how light and lively the conversation, it can be ruined if you have spinach wedged between your teeth and ketchup on your shirtfront.

Here, then, are some rules to follow when attending a business lunch:

--A bathrobe is not proper business attire. Dining out means you're required to wear actual clothes. This can be a problem for the at-home worker, especially if a steady diet of Ding-Dongs means none of your pants fit anymore.

--Dark, solid colors work best because they don't show spills or sweat. Beyond that, you want spills and drips to blend in with whatever you're wearing. For instance, if you're wearing a white shirt, it's better to order a white pasta sauce than a red one. If you're a real pig at the table, you might want to stick with wild patterns, such as Hawaiian shirts. These aren't particularly business-like, but they'll hide a multitude of sins. And remember: Neckties are for dipping.

--Bibs are out, unless you're eating lobster. Keep your napkin spread across your lap and trust gravity to take care of the rest.

--Avoid messy foods such as soup, spaghetti, sloppy joes, tacos, chili dogs, spare ribs, buffalo wings, cheeseburgers, mashed potatoes with gravy, eggs benedict. A good rule of thumb: If it looks good, you can't have it, it's too messy. Try ordering plain lettuce. Careful not to get it wedged between your teeth.

--Follow your host's lead when it comes to ordering. If your host orders something light and inexpensive, better not to order the rack of lamb yourself. When you're paying, order something in the right price range so your guest can follow your example. Again, plain lettuce works.

--Order the same number of courses as your host. That way, you won't still be scarfing dessert while he's looking at his watch.

--Skip the booze, even if your host consumes the traditional three martinis. Somebody's got to drive him back to his office.

--Don't flirt with the waitress. It's unseemly, even if she started it.

--Don’t ask a lot of questions of the waiter. This makes you appear picky and weird. If you don't recognize a particular sauce or entrée listed on the menu, then order something else. There's always lettuce.

--Don't ridicule the waiter when he offers "fresh ground pepper with that." Sure, there's pepper right there on the table, but the waiter has to ask. It's his job.

--Don't talk with your mouth full. Yes, you're excited about your ideas and you want to squeeze every topic you can into this business lunch. But clients are turned off by the sight of chewed food. Trust us.

--Toothpicks are to be used in private places, such as in your car. Ditto for dental floss.

--When the meal is over, stand up from the table and brush the crumbs from your lap. Confidently shake hands and give your lunch partner a big smile. That way, he can see for himself that you have gravy on your sleeve and lettuce between your teeth.

--Don't loiter. Drive straight home, picking your teeth along the way. Change into your pajamas, all the while congratulating yourself on another successful business lunch.

To celebrate, break out the Ding-Dongs.

Shop 'til you flop

It's always dangerous to speak in generalities, but here's one now: As a rule, men don't like to go shopping.

Sure, there are exceptions to this rule. Gadgets, for instance. Put a man in a pro shop or a hardware store or a computer store, and he'll happily shop for hours, comparing prices and capabilities and shooting the breeze with sales clerks. Discussing the intricacies of titanium ball washers and electric screwdrivers and who has the biggest gigabyte. But these men's interests are usually pretty narrow, and they're uncomfortable drifting through the endless variety found in malls.

Women recognize that men will never truly enjoy shopping, but they expect us to play along. They expect men to relate to the thrill of the hunt, the adventure of seeing what's out there. But men don't get it. We no longer have those pioneer genes. We already know what's out there; we saw it on TV. Now we'd rather be home on the sofa.

Most men cave in from time to time and go shopping with their wives. You can recognize these men in the stores by a certain dimming of their eyes, a foot-dragging listlessness. Plus, they're usually holding their wives' purses while the wives try on new dresses. When freed of purse duty, these men wander over to the TV department, where they watch whatever's on the many screens, while sighing and sharing sympathetic glances with other browbeaten men.

Out at the malls, you sometimes see herds of young men who seem to be aimlessly shopping. But they're not shopping. They're trolling for women. Trust me on this. If it weren't for their youthful hormones working overtime, they'd be home on the sofa, watching TV.

Guys shop on the basis of need. When they really need something, when they can no longer put it off, then they go. But they don't call it shopping. They call it "going to the store." And they treat the event like a raiding foray into enemy territory.

These men march directly to the department they're seeking, looking neither left nor right. They locate the items they need, try them on if necessary, buy them and hurry out of the store, mission accomplished. And they don't go to the mall again until something else wears out.

This is particularly true of clothing, which is why some men have underwear older than their children.

A man buys a new white shirt and he wears it until it's the color of spilled coffee and his elbows are poking through the sleeves. Throw it out? Wouldn't dream of it. Because once he admits the shirt is a goner, he validates his need for a replacement, which means he'll have to go shopping for another one.

Some men develop an entire hierarchy of clothing. Shirts and pants that go up and down the scale of stains and disrepair. For these men, the closet is a barometer, measuring how soon they'll feel pressured to shop.

Take that new white shirt, for example. It's so pristine, the guy doesn't even want to wear it for fear of ruining it somehow. He keeps it set aside as a Special Occasion shirt.

But accidents happen, particularly at special occasions with free booze, and pretty soon the Special Occasion shirt starts to show some wear and tear. Then it becomes an Everyday Shirt, one still suitable for business occasions, but the guy has stopped worrying about spills.

Once the shirt is frayed and worn and no longer fit for public inspection, it becomes the one his wife hates: His Favorite Shirt. Perfect for Saturdays on the sofa.

Eventually, after duty as a Yardwork Shirt, the shirt has so many holes you can see through it, and it becomes a Retired Shirt, relegated to the back of the closet.

These shirts sometimes are called out of retirement (usually by his wife) and they find second careers as Dust Cloths.

And, the final stop, the end of the line, is when that shirt becomes a Garage Rag. The man will be using it to clean grease off a wrench and he'll recognize that old favorite shirt and he'll get a little misty.

Because he knows it's time to go shopping for a new one.

Puffing and panting

Call me Mr. Between-Jeans.

Even those of us who work alone in the privacy of our own homes -- where every day is Casual Friday -- occasionally must go out into the world and buy new clothes.

I ventured to the dreaded mall recently in search of blue jeans. Autumn (the Official Season of Long Pants) had arrived and my only pair of jeans had become so tattered that they could no longer be seen in public.

Of course, they weren't my ONLY pair of jeans. I have a whole closetful. All of us who grew up in the Era of Blue Denim have stockpiles of jeans because we never, ever throw out a pair no matter their state of disrepair or their laughably outdated sizes. But I was down to one pair that fit comfortably.

When one reaches a "certain age," jeans that once molded sleekly to one's body become way too tight in all the wrong places. Squeeze into a pair and within an hour or two, you'll feel like a magician's assistant, being sawn in half. You know you've got a problem when you remove the jeans and you can still tell what brand they were by the stitching and rivet patterns pocked into your skin.

If you're like me, you wear the most comfortable pair over and over until they're as faded as Grandma's housedress. They get that weird fringe at the ankles where you've walked the hems off underfoot. Seams fray and buttons pop and, eventually, you're essentially wearing a long denim loincloth. Not the preferred look for the successful at-home worker.

So it's out into the world to buy new jeans. The selection these days is mind-boggling. Cargos and carpenters and cowboy cuts. "Classic" fits and "relaxed" fits and "loose." Loose sounds pretty enticing, particularly to someone whose favorite garment is a bathrobe, but I try them on only to find that I'm "sagging" in the wrong places. You can only wear the really baggy jeans if your main form of transportation is a skateboard.

I try some "relaxed" jeans and they're okay, seemingly designed for sitting rather than standing, which should suit my lifestyle fine. But the fit isn't quite right.

I don't know what it's like for women, but men's sizes change after one reaches a "certain size." Waist sizes no longer inch along. Once you get past a 34-inch waist (and I think I passed that in college), the sizes jump up in increments of two inches. Naturally, I fall between two sizes. One's buttonable as long as I hold my breath. The next size up feels like they'll fall off. (Probably not much chance of that happening. There's all that "office muscle" below the waist that'll keep them from actually dropping. But they FEEL wrong.)

And they're too long, which seems impossible for a man who's 6-foot-5, who's typically lucky to find anything his size on regular department store racks. But suddenly I don't wear a 36-inch inseam anymore. I wear a 34. Am I shrinking? Did something happen to my legs when I wasn't looking? Are the jeans just riding that much lower these days?

I finally attribute the length problem to the prewashing all jeans undergo these days. In my youth, we always bought jeans a tad long because we knew they'd shrink. Now, they've already shrunk -- supposedly -- and the result is a different size for me. I like that explanation better than the idea that I'm growing shorter with every passing day.

Once I adjust for length, the waist size still feels wrong. So I try the "classic" fits and then different brands and styles, going in and out of the fitting room so often the salespeople start to eye me suspiciously.

Finally, I realize I'm holding the new jeans to too high a standard. I want them to feel just like my ancient, ratty jeans, which have stretched and strained to my body for years. Even with all the pre-washing and size-shifting, jeans still need a "breaking-in" period. So I buy a pair, trusting that they'll eventually feel just right.

But my shopping adventure reminds me that the best uniform for the work-at-home dad remains a bathrobe. One size fits all.

Work-at-home wardrobe rules

Memo to those who work at home:

It has come to our attention that you folks who don't go to an office every day do not adhere to an enforceable dress code.

Granted, many of you bailed out of the 9-to-5 world to escape jobs that required suits and ties or heels and hose. But how do you expect clients and the outside world in general to take you seriously if you don't dress for success? And wouldn't you feel more professional if you followed a basic dress code?

Therefore, we here in the main office have drafted a proposed dress code for those of you who never leave your homes to perform your valuable work functions. We will conduct an open comment period during which we'll seek your input. Then, without warning, the following rules will become mandatory:

1. Pajamas are not proper office attire. Ditto for bathrobes.

2. Blue jeans are acceptable, of course, as long as you're not meeting clients face-to-face. But there are limits, people. Blue jeans that have been worn for more than six days in a row without washing will be considered a violation of the dress code.

3. Jeans with holes, slashes, patches, burn marks, tire tread patterns, coffee stains or large ink spills are verboten. Legs of said jeans should be approximately the same length.

4. Baby formula spit-up on your shoulder is not to be considered an accessory. Dried spit-up on both shoulders cannot be passed off as epaulets.

5. T-shirts are acceptable as long as they are in good condition (see Item 3 above). T-shirts should not bear beer slogans, rock band logos, curse words or depictions of naked people. Remember: Even if you don't see any clients all day, you'll probably run into your child's teacher at the supermarket.

6. Sweatshirts. See Item 5.

7. Sweatpants are comfortable work-at-home attire, but wearing them anyplace public should be reconsidered. No one's backside looks good in sweatpants.

8. Even though you're no longer going to a proper workplace, underwear still should be changed and laundered regularly. Turning it wrongside out doesn't count.

9. Flannel shirts are proper attire, if you're a lumberjack. However, we recognize that many of you work in poorly heated spaces and therefore need to layer on warm shirts, so we are willing to overlook these. Flannel shirts should have at least 50 percent of their original buttons. Any flannel shirt you owned in high school probably should be discarded.

10. Denim shirts. See Item 9.

11. Clothes should be put on hangers after they are laundered. Valuable work time is wasted sorting through that pile on the floor of your closet, trying to select a garment on the basis of crunchiness.

12. We here at the main office recognize that many of you enjoy the comfort of bare feet. But there are many hazards lurking in your home. Sharp-cornered plastic Legos. Need we say more?

13. Similarly, working in the nude to circumvent these regulations is not recommended. That coffee is hot. Trust us.

14. Personal hygiene remains important, even for those who work all alone. Here, we will refer you to the Rule of Doubles. You can safely double whatever your practices were when you worked at a regular job without risking dismissal or divorce. For example, if you showered daily when you went to the office, you can now shower every other day. Ditto for shaving your face or legs. However, if you were one of those pigs who only showered once a week to begin with, you might want to consider taking the math the other direction. Teeth should be brushed regularly and deodorant applied every day. You may be working at home, but there's still your family to consider. And, believe us, they'll let you hear about this.

There, that wasn't so painful, was it? No neckties. No high heels. Just a few basic rules for maintaining a professional appearance, even when there is no one around to see it. You'll look better and feel better. And you'll be ready to get right to work every morning, which is all we here at the main office care about anyway..