Yesterday, I discovered that my post-man left a package inside my car. Normally, I lock my vehicle, even though I live in a safe neighborhood. The area residents are small creatures like rabbits and mice, slightly bigger ones like foxes and coyotes, and the biggest ones are deer and the occassional lost mule that wanderes onto the property.
Anyway, the package was containing my birthday suit. It was a
very light box. Because, let's face it, my birthday suit is not
It's from my friend who knows that I would appreciate such a
gift. And I do. I don't think my guy will. That's
because my suit cuts down on accessibility, so to say.
It's red fleece, all one piece, got feeties...a bit big on me, but
better that than too small, right? My guy leaned over the table
and said, "I adore that you couldn't wait til we got home to open your
gift." I was tickled pink over the suit. Though, I don't
know how comfy the other patrons felt with me displaying my jammers.
I had told my friend that if she were to drive them here and hand
deliver them, I would model them when we went for lunch. She
sorely regrets she was unable to do that. Thanks, sweetie, I love