With this in mind my friend, Sherrie, and I were out on a fact finding trip to a local corn maze. We needed to know about the admission price, and what sorts of activities were available.
We were happy with what we found there in the way of fun even though the admission price seemed a little high to me. They also had a vegetable stand there and I bought a couple of onions to add to the soup I was making and Sherrie bought some squash that she was going home to cook immediately because it smelled and looked so good.
We were on our way back into town and a few blocks from Quirky Cottage when I interrupted our casual conversation by blurting out, “That’s my husband’s underwear!”
Poor Sherrie was so stunned by such an exclamation that she pulled the car to the side of the road. I jumped out for a closer inspection of the pair of white socks, blue tee shirt, beige walking shorts and a pair of dark gray Jockeys lying along the edge of the road.
The Jockeys is what caught my eye because at first glance they appeared to be identical to MY favorite pair that that the Cottage Master wears.
After approaching the clothing that had been flattened and ground into the asphalt by car tires running over them I was assured that they did not belong to the Cottage Master.
I had to explain to my astonished and hysterically laughing friend that the Cottage Master is notorious for putting things on top of his car then driving away. They very well could have been his, really.
Would I have picked them up had I been convinced that they were his? NO, no, no.
P.S. Just in case you are interested -- today, a day later, the walking shorts have been picked up but the rest of the clothing is still getting ground into the pavement.
RGS
6 comments:
Reminds me of a Sunday morning in my college dorm when I went to change my laundry to the dryer... only to find all my underwear strew in the tree limbs below us outside. Stupid boys had gone through the night before and taken out select pieces of clothes in all the girl laundry rooms and tossed them out the windows.
Very funny.
"Are any of your clothes out there?" I was asked. "No," I told them, "I must have gotten lucky I guess." Then I decided to run to town. Suddenly I had some shopping to do.
*sigh*
Rita,
Your post made me laugh out loud. You are so funny.
We decided to stay home for our vacation and not go to California. I was sad about this, but am getting over it. Oh well, there is always next year.
It sounds like an intersting article that you read on the woman who said going to Israel is like going home.
Maybe someday, we will both get there.
Melissa
Oh my I am still laughing just to read Rita's blog and recalling the incident...And I probably laughed more than her or any of you, because I saw the look of horror on Rita's face, thinking it was her Cottage Master's underwear....I needed to have my camera to take a picture of her on a busy street taking pictures of these smashed clothes. We hurt so from laughing, we both said our faces hurt, and I said, gee, that means we don't use those laughing muscles in our face enough, or like any muscles in our body that don't get used enough, they will hurt if used more than the norm...teehee, it truly was a kick!!! Sherrie
Again, as I think about this episode Rita and I had, you just had to of been there to get the full impact of it all...abit more details.....after I pulled over she got out of the car to inspect the clothes and when she got back in the car,I told her it was the perfect blog story, and I insisted to take her home to get her camera and come back, she had to have pictures for pete's sakes to go with the blog story, etc...of course, I couldn't quit giggling and laughing the whole time. It was, I thought, the funniest thing I have done so far with Rita! She is so fun to be with! Always, Sherrie
I bet that made your heart stop when you saw "cottage masters" clothes. I can just imagine the shock and then the laughter as you realize the error.
Thanks for the laugh.
That is hilarious. "That's My Husband's Underware!" I think you've found the title for your autobiography. So very Erma Bombeck.
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