To Be An Artist (or a Happy Human) Maybe Learn to Let Yourself Be Lucky

A couple of weeks ago, I covered a protest/rally for our paper, The Bar Harbor Story. I took a lot of photos, which meant a lot of moving around the town’s village green.

I squatted. I stood near a gazebo. I sat in the grass. I circled the perimeter. I took a lot of photos from all different positions.

I also walked back and forth from our town’s Village Green to my house. There were a lot of people on the streets, hanging out, enjoying the magic that is Bar Harbor, Maine.

“So?” you’re probably wondering. “Who cares, Carrie?”

Well, when I went to the bathroom at home, I pulled down my pants (this is important for the story, I swear), and it was at this point that I realized that I had worn my pants inside out.

How did I learn this?

I saw pockets. Pockets in the wrong place. Pockets on the inside.

These were not yoga pants or sweat pants. Nope. These were cargo pants. And I didn’t notice for hours that they were on inside out.

Imagine these but more pockets: