So, a few months ago, I was watched an episode of Ghost Hunters and in multiple shots and interviews, you can clearly see bras that were hung up in the closet. I couldn’t believe that no one, especially the homeowner, noticed them? Maybe they could have moved the bras? Anyone? Anyone?
You couldn’t move them? Drawer? Throw them in the closet and shut the door? I was annoyed. All the years of poring over real estate photos has been seared into my brain. I see everything.
Except in my own home, apparently.
Last week, after my failed attempt at watercrafting, we had a company come in to assist with the cleaning and repair which will well exceed my homeowner’s insurance deductible. They also handle all of the claim brouhaha, for which I am very grateful. Their representative came to my house, tested all the moisture levels and directed all the demo work.
We sat together at the kitchen table, filling out paperwork, calling the insurance, comparing tattoos (he has an awesome pirate ship on his chest, I have none). We discussed liquor, the hand made pirate pajama pants I made for Josh, and how people are dumb when they use unprofessional e-mail addresses (xxxbootyluvr69xxx at yahoo, I’m looking at you and your RESUME). A good time was had by all.
Until the other night when, to my chagrin, I saw this:
OMFG he picked that chair to sit in. He sat in the kitchen chair that I had a bra hanging off of. No one is going to notice my totally cool Rolling Stones tote bag once they realize they’re sitting up against my bra. Why do I have a bra carelessly hanging from a kitchen chair? Because fuck you, that’s why. My pants are in the foyer right now. I can say with 100% honesty that I am so fucking relieved that it’s the $100, rarely worn, least embarrassing bra to be embarrassed by. Maybe he didn’t even see it. Thank god it wasn’t the ugly “daily workhorse” bra.
Work starts tomorrow to repair everything. I’m praying for no problems, no drama, no further damage, no mold, no errant undergarments,