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| Wednesday, May 11, 2005 05:26 PM |
| A long story with very little point |
| by poppy |
I think this post is safe for public comsumption. There is what may be interpreted by some as TMI towards the end, but I accept no responsibility for any mental images.
Background Piece 1: So I do our laundry at my parents' house because our washer is located in what could be charitably termed a root cellar and I think it is icky. Due to the bum back, I have been getting people to load and unload the laundry from my car, feanor on one end, my dad on the other. As such, I do not always know what shirts end up in what bags; my mother has also adopted a method of packing involving series of smaller plastic bags packed within larger laundry bags. But I digress. There was laundry packed into my car yesterday, which was then unpacked by feanor when I got home from work.
Background Piece 2: At my one work place they are a bit fanatical about parking. There are only certain lots in which we are allowed to park, and within them we need to be a certain distance from the door. Damn parking facists. Of course, being the good American workers that we are, many of us regularly flout these regulations and park wherever we please. We kind of know each other's cars by now, and adopt a kind of safety in numbers approach to the illegal parking.
Story: So I drag myself into work this morning, only a little worse for wear from my doctor's appointment the afternoon before. I'm feeling achy, but okay. One of the guards comes up to me before we open, smiles and asks if I had a good night last night. I rolled my eyes and was about to launch into my saga of pain when I notice that he seems to be suppressing laughter. So I say, I was at work, you know how much fun that is. At which point he bursts into giggles, says really? and walks away. A little later one of the maintenance guys comes over to the desk, sneers, and asks if I had a good night last night. I felt like screaming, why no, I did not have a good night last night. I had an ass full of lidocaine, could only comfortably sit with my knees elevated above my waist, and dealt with snobby prep school boys all night. Not fun goddammit! Instead I grimaced and said, it was fine, did you have a good night? At which point he bursts into hysterical giggles, says aight, and leaves.
I forget about this (hey, I'm the only woman under 40 who is not currently knocked up who works on the first floor; I'm used to male heckling), and complete my half day and go to leave. I notice as I walk out that I am parked next to the security guy's truck. I open my door, glance into the back seat... and see a pretty little pink thong laying on top of a pair of pants that feanor neglected to bring into the house last night. Sigh. |
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