I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.
With Harry traveling and seeing all the wonders of West Virginia ("Trailers come in pink???) I am stuck here tossing and turning 'tween the sheets. Okay fine - I don't use a top sheet - more like 'tween the sheet and a big ol' comfortor that's not living up to its name.
So I wake up late, get dressed, toss on my face and head for the door with ten minutes to spare. Of course - when my fingers curl around the brass doorknob - that's when it hits me.
Crap. I have to pee.
So I waddle back across the floor, through the bedroom door and into the bathroom. I then re-button my pants, latch the hooks and fix my belt cursing the fact that the people that make women's pants think we need at least four barricades to our underoos. It was like I was wearing an accidental chastity belt with no key in sight.
The morning at work passes by with little drama. I talked to people who want jobs in the mental health industry (some I think could use services instead). When we run out of paper I walk down the hall, waving to the people I've yet to learn the names of even though I'm seven months past being a newbie.
About fifteen minutes till noon I notice something - odd.
My arm brushes against my middle and I realize - with horror - my pants have been unzipped all day. I have talked to my boss, my officemate, various other people all while exposing my fluffy gut.
To make it worse, I'm a little behind on laundry so, framed in the triangle of my fly was a large peice of LIME GREEN GRANNY PANTIES. These undies are awful. They are so "full coverage" that I could tuck them in to the bottom of my bra and still not have a wedgie. And there's a large flower on the front. A green and pink ugly-ass flower.
I discreetly wheeled around in my black office chair, swallowed the urge to giggle like a crazy person, and subtly zipped up my tan dress pants.
But tomorrow's a new day. One that will be filled with pants with no zippers and smiles all around for it really couldn't be much worse than today. And it's promised to end well as I plan a mini bonfire of the panties. Then again - these are LARGE panties and I'd hate to call the fire department if the blaze got out of control.
How would that call go? "Yes, come quick! I've burnt down my house when I tried to have a bonfire of the panties party! No - it's not a joke! No - my house is on FIRE! What?! No! I'm not cra- forget it. The hose isn't completely melted - I'll take care of it myself!"