Are Those Your Knickers?

My beautiful blogging friend, Shirley Blamey, called me via FaceTime from her home in England this afternoon. Her equally beautiful husband, Michael Steeden, joined us on the call. I absolutely love these two—their wit, wisdom, and encouragement have helped buoy me as I attempt to finish my novel during the pandemic.

We’ve enjoyed several FaceTime calls and I’ve become quite comfortable letting these two wonderful people into my life. So comfortable in fact that as I was engaged in conversation I set about the task of hanging some of my delicates up to dry.

All at once I hear Shirley say, “Are those your knickers?”

For some reason I thought my panties weren’t visible on the screen, but sure enough, those were my knickers. I just hope dear Shirley and Mike aren’t permanently scarred by the sight.

Not my panties. Not my clothesline.

Peace, people.

Unknown's avatar

Author: nananoyz

I'm a semi-retired crazy person with one husband and two cats.

20 thoughts on “Are Those Your Knickers?”

  1. Worry not, young Leslie, ‘twas only yesterday prior to their annual wash my dear wife Shirl went hang-gliding across and over The White Cliffs toward France using her knickers to form the crucial wing.

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