It’s a dream that virtually everyone has. You show up for some important event — wedding, final exam, big speech, whatever — and you realize you’re not wearing pants.

I’m living it. And it’s not too bad.

I called the CEO before I came back to work and asked her if it was OK if I wear shorts to work for a couple of weeks since I really don’t want to cut the legs of my slacks. She said it was fine with her, so I’m back at work today. And I’m not wearing pants.

I bet I have said that at least twenty times today. The phone rings, someone asks if I have a minute to talk to them. I tell them, “Come on up, but I’m not wearing pants.” Not “Hey, I’m in shorts today” but “I’m not wearing pants.” I’m cracking myself up.

As liberating and fun as it sounds to not wear pants, the challenge is that outside it is January. Louisiana is a wonderfully temperate place to live, but it was 36 degrees when we left the house this morning. The rest of the week is supposed to be warmer, but lows will still be in the 40s. For this reason I asked Peggy to go find me a pair of gray or black sweatpants that don’t look too tacky. I may have to trade my liberation for warmth for a couple of days.

But I will lose my tagline…