Tuesday, September 8, 2009

All of these men and I'm not wearing pants

I got home from a good, sweaty, mind-emptying workout at the gym, ate dinner with my brother while the mister was at class, and hit the shower. Since then, I’ve been walking around the house in a tank top, undies, and my ugly blue shortie terry-cloth robe. I roughly towel-dried my hair, but it’s all wild and sticking up, and this robe is really really short and there's an awful lot of leg sticking out the bottom.

My brother was out in the garage, doing something loud and annoying to his car while he watched the Twins game, and the mister joined him right after getting home from school, so what do I care?

But just now, when the door opened, I looked up from folding my laundry, prepared to berate the mister if he walked on my freshly washed floor with his dirty garage shoes, and in came the mister. And my brother. And the mister’s friend Hans. And Hans’ friend. And Hans’ other friend. And my brother’s friend. All of these men, where the hell did they come from? And why are they in my house when I’m not wearing any pants?

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