Cyclists, Stolen Panties, and Straddling the Bench

Friday night I wound up giving a professional cyclist a ride back to Kelly Drive; he was from Virginia and recently relocated to this area for graduate school. Found this stray while circling the building, as he wanted directions back to Kelly Drive from here. With the impending storm, I thought it was nice to offer him a ride. My coworker thought he seemed harmless, too. I figured all I had to do was sit on his wiry frame if he wound up being an axe murderer or something. He was probably thinking who is the strange woman giving me a ride. We made pleasant small talk, and I deposited him safely at Kelly Drive, which wound up adding 25 minutes to my commute home.

Saturday was fairly uneventful. I wound up unpacking a box that's been sitting in my basement for, oh, four years. In this box I found my journal from graduate school, some pictures from the same era, a few concert t-shirts, and my roommate Nicola's red satin panties. Now before you concoct some devious plot fueled by curiosity and a bottle of wine, they were stolen as a joke--part of a scavenger hunt for our demented English department, and I never gave them back. I took them right out of her drawer (she stole one of my bras), and I always intended to mail them back to her as a joke, but we lost touch. After finding her lucky panties this Saturday, I decided to wash them and wear them as a secret talisman to help me put up with some annoyance in my life, which this week (like all weeks) happened to be returning to work on Monday.

Went to my friends' son's Christening on Sunday, and all of things, wound up sitting at the Moms' club table. The ladies were nice, and of course they were filled with questions about being a single Mom. I don't mind being the subject of curiosity; however, it just ruffled my feathers more than a bit when they referred to my life as a "situation." My life is my life, and it's just different from their lives. Not better, not worse, just different. Had the mistake of asking them about the book club. "We don't read," they responded. OK. I see we have lots in common...

Now that I've vented about people's views of my "situation," I wore my bitchin' outfit to the Christening and to work today. The color is a "velvet red," but it's a very touchable poly blend. I wore my five inch red stiletto heels to the Christening, but not to work. Everyone loved my shoes at the Christening; I think some people were surprised that I actually coordinate from the comments I received. I guess I was dressed a far cry from the sweats and jeans they normally see me in. Oh, well, I know I clean up pretty decently.

We went to Church Sunday night, and a woman approached us after Mass. She wanted to let me know that Emily and I both looked very lovely and that she thought I was striking. "Do you realize how pretty you are?" I smiled sheepishly. Methinks she hit the pub before spending time with the Lord. Actually, she was a very lovely woman who helped bolster my shaky self-confidence.

This morning I met my female coworkers for a meeting at the picnic table. When getting up to leave, I straddled the bench, and I was informed, "You're wearing red undies today." I looked at her quizzically, and she said, "You might not want to do that in a skirt." I turned as red as my shirt and was grateful she mentioned it. Now wouldn't she just have died if I explained that the panties once belonged to my roommate...