I did some laundry today and it triggered a memory of being horrified in the second grade. There I was just innocently eating my lunch at the benches surrounded by classmates when I felt a lump in in the sleeve of my pale yellow sweatshirt with ducks on it (man, I loved that sweatshirt). I didn’t really think about what could possibly be in there, I just reached in and yanked it out, revealing a pastel colored pair of my mom’s underwear. I remember feeling slightly terrified about what to do, about who would see, and how to deal with it before anyone noticed the reddening of my face. Panicked, I had no choice but to shove the underwear back where it came from. The sleeve, not my mom’s ass. The lessons I took away from it were to thoroughly check for remnant items and to hate static cling forever while refusing to fight it with dryer sheets.
Posted in Brain Farts
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