QUE VERGüENZA!

My parents have been staying w/ me a bit recently due to travel and medical appointments. They are a pleasure to have around and fabulous house guests, even in a place as small as mine. They visited midweek this time, and I had leave for work before they were ready to head off, so I left them with a key.

It was so lovely upon arriving home to find everything far tidier than I’d left it. Dad almost compulsively washes my dishes whenever he’s around. As I was hopping about the bedroom getting ready to hit the gym, I was struck by the horrific realization that my parents had even looked under the bed. Nicely arranged on the top of my laundry basket sat damning evidence of illicit activity.

For context, a few months ago there was a somewhat regrettable, highly forgettable evening that was not nearly as interesting as the evidence would suggest (unless you count the ample evidence of my being severely ill) that resulted in a guest departing without everything they came in with. Finding this parting gift the following morning was as hilarious as it was humiliating, and I kicked it under the bed so as not to think about it.

Never look under the bed! Things are sent there for a reason. Either to be hidden or forgotten. I can only hope my parents have learned this lesson. Or they just think they’re being hysterically funny. With dad I can never really tell.

I’m being haunted by a pair of tatty Jockeys.