The day my son was LITERALLY a pain in my arse.
I donned a white dress I haven’t worn in a very long time. Since last Summer I believe?
Went to work.
Checked out the chair. Chair was not an unsub. (For those of you that don’t watch Criminal Minds – first of all, “SHAME ON YOU!” Secondly, it means unknown subject.)
I madly rushed about my day and each time I sat, OUCH!
I checked the lace in my dress. Oh, this was the dress. (Looks better on me than flayed out on my bed.)
I was brought up as a lady – so I had these very delicate panties/slip type thingys underneath said dress.
They’re large, I’m slender. They work as a slip.
So then I start inspecting THEM!
Half a day in at work I can’t take it anymore and actually found a private moment to ‘ladylike reach my hand up to my arse.”
(You’ll never read that in any Bronte novel)
And … What do I find?
Last time I washed the dress must have been with Nic’s work shirt – WITH name tag attached.
I peeled it off and announced my discomfort. Because, we all know, I do SO well with editing.
“Nic was seriously a pain in my ass today!!!!”
I have since confronted him – laughed with him and he even allowed these selfies. (This is rare – it’s like Big Foot accepting a photo op!) I even plastered his tag onto his forehead.
I look at it as a ‘thank you’ for doing his laundry.
He wore the tag well … He braved the photo storm. I shall forgive him this dress intrusion.
But, today, yes – he was a PAIN IN MY ASS!!!!!!