I see London, I see France, I see Lola's underpants...

on the office floor?

How the fuck does that happen?

I'll tell you.

And I'm heinously embarrassed.

This morning I put on dirty jeans (okay they were worn, but not dirty necessarily). J & I are swimming in baskets of laundry & I was running late. I even ironed the dirty jeans. Yes, ironed. And I put them on with my sweater, high heels & my pashmina wrap.

Some hours go by. Just another day at the office.

And then right after the UPS guy left I had to go to the bathroom. I came back, sat at my desk & started eating lunch. And one of the agents on my team came to my desk & her jaw dropped.

"What is that?", she cried, pointing at the Persian rug in the lobby of our office.

It was my dirty panties.

I wanted to die.

I blamed the UPS guy. Shrug.

HOW DID MY DIRTY UNDERWEAR GET OUT OF MY DIRTY JEANS AND ON TO THE FLOOR WITHOUT ME FEELING IT OR SEEING IT?

I want to know.

Who has answers?

Oh & since I pretended they weren't mine I threw them out with a paper plate as a scoop & a highlighter as my shovel. And I'll be damned if my co-agent didn't actually reach in to view the panties & notice the size.

A 6.

That's my size.

Snort.