I threw it in the washer after scraping the 35% beef off the front and spraying it down with something that I think I was supposed to yell “BAM!” while squeezing the trigger. I stuffed other clothes in the washer because my jacket would be lonely and the environment would weep if I didn’t.
Into the dryer.
Out and on to the coat rack.
Because it was a balmy 36 degrees the rest of the weekend, I didn’t see my jacket until Monday morning as Greg and I walked out the door to the garage. My assumption was that it was going to be warm enough to not have a jacket so I just threw it on the front seat.
We pulled into the preschool parking lot and when I jumped out, I realized that it was actually way freaking warmer in my garage than the outside, so I grabbed the jacket off the passenger seat and threw it on.
As Greg and I walked to the doors, I felt something folded up at the pocket flap by my sleeve. I thought my cuff was stuck, but there was something there. As we got up to the door I looked down and saw what it was.
It was Miss Sally’s underwear.
It was stuck to the Velcro that keeps the pocket closed. With several other parents coming and going, I deftly grabbed the undies and stuck them in my pocket. I snickered to myself as we entered and Greg kept asking why I was laughing.
Many women’s magazines suggest spicing up the love life by having the woman stick her underwear in the husband’s pocket so he’ll know there will be some loving later on. As this was Valentine’s Day, I asked Miss Sally if this was the case. Not so much.
Well, in lieu of a Valentine’s Day gift, I told her that I wouldn’t speak a word of this to anyone.
Happy Valentine’s Day Miss Sally!
PS Check your jacket pocket tomorrow, Sally. Hubba hubba!
