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Monday, June 23, 2008

"You dropped something!"

I was unpacking my car late last night in the dark. I had just arrived home from a wedding up in Wine Country, and I was taking numerous trips through the garage area into the hall to my apartment. And when I say numerous, I really mean it! Sure I was only gone for a weekend, but that doesn't mean it didn't look like moving day when I arrived home last night. I had a lot of things to bring in- like...a full size swamp cooler (I give up, I need some type of air conditioning!), luggage (yes it was was only a weekend, but that doesn't mean I didn't need to bring 3 pieces of luggage, my purse, plus my temperpedic pillow because you can never trust hotel pillows), bottles of wine (which hopefully will be as good as remembered from the wine-tastings, but you never know because of slightly impaired judgement the wines really do start all blending together), clean laundry (yes, I still bring my laundry home to wash at my parent's house- I still can't fully embrace city-living if it involves a community laundry-mat), oh and you can't forget that I had to load in Mozie, his bed, his kennel... ok you get the picture, I had a lot of things to bring into my apartment.

Well, it looks like I dropped one item. One little item. In the common walkway by the garages. But I didn't find out until this morning....

On my way out to work this morning I ran into my neighbor, Andy (a stuffy, grumpy man in his late sixties, who seems to have a fake accent, constantly walks suspiciously with a giant camera, and could possibly have ties to a mafia of some sort). We walked down the hall chit-chatting more than usual, and he was rambling on about how the building management hasn't been doing their job cleaning up. We exit to the garage area walkway and I see Andy looking down to the ground close to my garage, nearly disgusted. He suddenly walks over and kicks something out of the way, shaking his head. I look down to see what is distracting him...

It was a lacy pair of purple panties. Definitely not your average pair of underwear. Definitely not a pair of underwear a man nearly the age of my grandfather has ever seen in real life. And after a few seconds, my stomach dropped and I realized that these panties were mine!!!

Andy didn't acknowledge what had just been seen, and he probably figured someone was having a good time out by the garages the night before, but it's not like that at all!! I'm completely innocent- just had a lot of stuff to unload and obviously dropped these in a prime traffic location. Since I go into work later than most working people, I would guess that at least 10 other residents had to have walked by these purple panties this morning on their way out. The only thing that saves me from absolute embarrassment is that no one knows for certain they are mine. Sure, I'm one of the few girl residents...ok, I'm one of the few girl residents under 50 (it can be assumed that most of the grannies in the building are probably sporting grannie panties) and sure, they were sitting by my garage, but this process of elimination doesn't make them mine!

Which reminds me of an equally embarrassing panty moment that happened my junior year of college. For my music class, I had to write a review on a live performance at the Pantages Theater. I used the term 'Pantages Theater' throughout the paper, and when my 70 year old, extremely conservative, male teacher handed back my report, there was a comment on the top of the page, "Where is the Panties Theater?" Spell check took it upon itself to change 'Pantages' to 'Panties'. Guess that's what I get for not proof reading a paper before turning it in.

Now I am sitting here wondering if the purple panties will still be by my garage when I get home tonight. I hope they're anywhere but on my doorstep with a note that reads, "You dropped something. - Andy"