I'm sure everyone is aware of my dislike of clothes. The running joke used to be to wait five minutes when you knocked on the door of my home because I was busy getting dressed.
Yesterday morning, I went back to bed after the chickens got on the bus for school. Then I got up, still drowsy, and decided to start my day. I pulled on a shirt, nothing else, and stepped on the front porch for a cigarette.
Keep in mind...my house is a bit back from the road. Not a mile, by any means, but I'm not right on the highway. So I'm standing with my butt toward the door because, well, it's uncovered. Mostly.
And then what happens?
Oh sure. Somebody in a red car pulls into my driveway. I hurriedly put my cigarette out and run into the house (showing my heiney on the turn) to pull on my pajama pants. At first I thought it was idiot ex. But it wasn't. It was some guy who wanted to talk to me about trapping turtles in the pond.
And he had a HUGE grin on his face the entire time we talked. Which was brief, I can assure you.
The problem being...I don't have any comfortable shorts to wear since the fire. So I, obviously, must go forth and find some. For the sake of my dignity.
1 year ago