Hanky Panky

I don't typically stay out late on "school nights." Beauty rest is vital to a single girl on the prowl so I try to be home by 11 during the week. Plus I'm typically to work by 8 AM, so it's easier to get up after 8 restful hours vs. 4 drunken ones.

Wednesday night I stayed out later than usual (to be detailed in a future post) and upon driving home was sidelined for nearly a full hour by highway construction. I got home at 1 AM instead of 12 AM as intended. I was exhausted and I stripped off my clothes, taking time to hang my jeans in the closet and fold my sweater, but discarded my bra, undies, t-shirt and shoes in a pile on the floor. I slipped into bed and had unusually broken, restless sleep.

Thursday morning I had to drag myself out of bed. I was tired, groggy, cranky...and instead of putting yesterday's laundry in the hamper I left it on the floor. I did expend the effort to make the bed, but didn't bother putting the decorative pillows in place, just left my one "sleeping" pillow on the bed. I added my pj's to the pile of previously mentioned unmentionables, showered, dressed, and headed off to work. I didn't think twice about the pile of laundry on the floor...after all, who was going to be in my unit before me?

At 10:36 AM an email is delivered to my iPhone...it's the builder (for my condo), they are going to have an electrician onsite today who can fix the tricky lightswitch I had complained about in the master bedroom. Would it be okay for them to let the electrician in my unit?

You know exactly what I pictured: the pile of bra, t-shirt, undies, boy shorts and long-sleeve T lazily discarded on the floor in the middle of the room. And a big, fat, totally disgusting electrician ogling my unmentionables. Of course today would be the day they have an electrician available to fix the problem.

I weighed my options:
1. Say no, and hope they can fix it another day.
2. Say yes, then immediately drive home to scoop up the laundry and dump it in the hamper.
3. Say yes, and to hell with the unmentionables. I'm sure he's seen worse.

My desire to avoid an electrical fire ultimately outweighed my desire to protect my panties and my work schedule eliminated option 2, so I said yes. And I spent the next 8 hours agonizing over what was on the floor and what the filthy electrician was seeing.

I rolled into my place at 6:30 PM last night. I didn't even remove my shoes or coat at the door: I walked directly to the master bedroom, flipped on the now-functioning lightswitch and surveyed the scene.

Yep. My most embarrassing dream come true:
-"fully armored" bra (translation: extreme padding), color pink, splayed full-length on the floor like a slingshot
-yesterday's undies, pink Hanky Panky's, also extended in their full (albeit, brief) glory on the floor
-gray boy shorts
-long-sleeve T from a company outing in 2000, that after 10 years is more than showing its age
-one pair of ballet flats, one pair of slippers, one pair of heels and two pairs of flip flops scattered about

The one non-embarrassing item on the floor (besides the shoes; I was only embarrassed by the number of shoes I managed to wear in the course of a day) was yesterday's t-shirt, thankfully relatively new so devoid of holes.

Still wearing my coat and shoes, I gathered the laundry into my arms and immediately deposited it in the hamper (tucked neatly in the linen closet). I gathered all the shoes and lined those up in the closet, adding the pair from my feet and substituting those with the slippers. I didn't actually finish making the bed -- I was so tired that I knew in a matter of hours I would be snuggled in between the sheets.

And I promised myself to never, ever let laziness prevent me from taking the extra 30 seconds to put laundry in the hamper ever again. As you can imagine, when I left home this morning my house looked ready for a photo shoot.