We had five minutes to make the trip which normally takes about 15 minutes. LoveGirl hollered out from the garage, "Are you coming?!? What are you wearing?! It's really cold out. You can't wear short pants! Throw on jeans. You gotta hurry! We're late!"
Since I'm fully trained and fairly compliant, I quickly absorbed the gist of this intense verbal direction from a spouse and meekly turned and ran upstairs to change. And that's when my brain momentarily locked up. Instead of taking off my sneakers, I just dropped the shorts and grabbed the jeans. The last coherent thought that I can recall was something to the effect of "Hey, I can save time and just pull the jeans over the sneakers!"
Her: "Are you coming?!"
Me: "Uhhh....this is really, really bad, but I need you to come upstairs."
Her: "What?!? Why?!?"
Me: "Ok...this is so bad that I'm telling you now, before you get up here. Just come up. I need a little help."
I can't imagine what went through her mind when she saw the tangled pretzel-like immobile mess that only moments before had been identifiable as a relatively normal functioning husband. I've never before heard that nearly inhuman sound she started making -- a combination laugh, snort, gasp for air and groan -- while scrunched up trying not to have a #1 accident on the carpet. I'm pretty sure there were tears too.
Me: "Sweetie, I know this is hysterical, but do you think you could give me hand?"
Her: "Hold on, I can't breath"
Eventually, she went hunting for scissors or garden shears because there was simply no way to get the pant leg over the shoe. What we had is what you would call permanent jeans over sneakers lockdown. Can't pull 'em up, can't pull 'em down. Nothing. No movement regardless of direction of pull.
Even with semi-professional cutting tools on the scene, the shoe was so wedged inside the leg of the jeans that there was not enough room to jam the scissors in place to make a cut.
Me: "This is unbelievable. We may have to call 911 for the Jaws of Life."
Her: "How did you get these so tight!?!"
Me: "I honestly don't know. I was just pulling the jeans on and suddenly everything just clamped down."
Her: "I'm afraid you're going to lose the foot!"
Me: "*Good grief. Even little kids know better than to try this."
So...we ended up voting to shred my Levi's after which the evil pant leg finally succumbed and released the iron grip on my shoe.
I should probably post a picture and someday I may, but right now, it's all just too much. I need to lie down.
* I didn't actually say "good grief," but since this is a family blog, it's close enough.