You would think I would have learned my lesson the day Hayden threw the front door open for the UPS guy to find me sprawled, literally, butt naked on the tile floor in front of him (oh, you didn’t read that post?! Click HERE). Or maybe when the landscapers all stood outside my window gawking while I dressed (oh, I haven’t shared that one with you yet? Just wait!). But no. Not me. I am the sort of person who has to make the same mistake and suffer the same humiliation at least a dozen or more times before it occurs to me that maybe I should do things differently. Like put some blinds on the windows. Or take the clean laundry out of the mountainous piles in the laundry room and put it in the relative privacy of my closet so I needn’t run past the front door in my birthday suit every time I dress. You would think.
Now similar to the UPS guy, the guy who delivers our heating oil doesn’t follow a very predictable schedule. One month he’ll show up as the kids and I are sitting down to lunch, the next we’ll be his last stop of the day. The trouble is, I never know exactly when he will show up, and it does actually matter, but not for the reasons you may think. It’s not that I am trying to coordinate trips to the grocery store or pick ups and drop offs for afternoon kindergarten. It’s not that I’m going to run to the post office or trying to plan play dates. Nope. None of that.
It’s all about showering. I’ve had a few close calls, a time or two that I’ve had to hit the shower floor and fast because someone has come into the yard while I am in the shower. But this particular day, I even set the alarm so I would be up and showered long before anyone could show up at our house for deliveries. Yep, rise and shine at just about the crack of dawn for me. This time I wasn’t taking any chances! You see, our master shower has full windows that look out over our side yard and the creek and the woods beyond. It’s quite lovely and picturesque, and a wonderfully peaceful and scenic atmosphere for bathing. Except, of course, when a rugged albeit friendly stranger happens to be walking past the windows looking intently at the side of the house for the access door to the oil tanks, which are, of course, located right below the shower windows.
And that, my friends, is exactly who I saw as I opened my eyes after rinsing the suds from my hair and face, elbows at right angles in the air, fully facing the windows. An astonished red-faced man in work clothes, hauling a giant hose, and looking as though he wished the earth would swallow him whole. For a moment, as time stood still, we both stood frozen in place as our minds tried desperately to tell our bodies what to do. And then we both dashed into action, he racing around the corner of the house and I dropping to the floor. I stayed pressed against the tile until the water ran cold, and I knew I could stall no longer. I crawled from the shower and tugged my towel from the rack. Pulling my robe closed, I headed toward the front door, checkbook in hand and pretended that nothing at all out of the ordinary had happened as I swung open the door and greeted the still red-faced and now stammering man.
You would think I would have put blinds up that very day. You would think.
You can take the most awkward, gosh awful stuff and have us laughing with tears at the end of your story. You are a gifted story teller. Great way to start the day, laughing.
You crack me up! Hope you haven’t had any other surprises lately.
Katie
Oh. My. God. I give you credit for being able to show up at the door with checkbook in hand. I probably would have changed oil companies.
I still have a bunch of windows in my home without shades, but none in the bathroom. Houses in my neighborhood are too close together for that.
Lucky for me, we haven’t any human neighbors! I don’t mind the deer watching me shower, but last summer there was a squirrel that would give me the willies… Considered window coverings then!
Oh, I hadn’t read this one. Hysterical – (because it was you and not me). I’d still be hiding under a bed somewhere.