'do rags and whitee tightees

earlier today, i was pulling my ruth buzzi (see her stylin, she is working that hairnet!) and frantically typing and pasting and copying and all that kinda stuff ya do when you're making those anonymous random notes to your state's congressmen; when i heard my dogs go into a fit and frenzy, sending up a bevy of barks and sounding downright enraptured about it too.  as i live on the edge of eastbumblefuk, past timfukedtwo, well into gahd's kuntree and since it was in mid-afternoon, i wasn't thinking that anyone would be around (never mind the dogs are raising helen cain out there).  or i simply forgot the "no pants, no door" rule.  could be either or both nor neither.  at any rate, i did open the door and gave the delivery dude quite a scare. coulda been cuz he was lost and expecting a 75+ yr old woman.  but  i'm thinking it was the favored pair of boxers with leafs all over them (very apropos for the season) and my crochet'ed 'do-rag that makes me look like the lunch-lady that did it, for he skedaddled back to his truck and peeled clods of turf in his haste to escape.