Fizzy Follies – Naked With the Postwoman
Hello my dears!
Okay, I have been putting this one off. But, I promised I would share the tale, and I am nothing if not dedicated.
A few weeks ago, I shared a story in which I very nakedly opened the door for the gas man.
Well, I have managed to outdo myself.
It’s a gift, I tell you. My knack for public humiliation.
As I mentioned in my gas man post, I will occasionally nap when my little sir naps in the afternoon. I haven’t been getting a lot of sleep in the nighttime hours, and hey, they always say to sleep when the baby sleeps, right?
Someone please assure me this rule still applies onces baby is a toddler… Yes?
Well, last Thursday, I was wicked tired. And with a sleeping lad, I scampered off to bed and passed out with a quickness.
It was glorious. I was in a deep and delightful sleep.
Here is where I set myself up for failure.
To properly nap, I must assume my nighttime sleeping stance. Which generally means a naked stance.
What? I hate the way clothes twist and ride up in bed. I’m a toss and turn kind of gal.
Earlier on this fine Thursday, the dogs had been barking off and on, and I would go to the door like a good girl and there would never be anyone there. I don’t know why dogs do this. Maybe they heard a car door slam down the block. Maybe someone was outside walking and the pups heard them.
Perhaps a squirrel farted three states over. Who the fuck knows. My dogs are crazy bastards.
Normally, this is just an annoyance and I throw them a Beggin’ Strip and politely instruct my canine pals to SSSSSHHHH.
However, when the boy is napping, this becomes a crisis situation. If the doggies bark, the boy wakes up. If the boy wakes up, he doesn’t get all his needed nap rest. If he doesn’t get all his nap rest, I will be stuck with a ginger haired demon child the likes of which would make Chucky the doll say, “ZOMG RUN!”
So, during nap time, when a single bark is heard, it sets off a parental panic attack. When I am asleep and this happens, it sets off a clusterfuck of slapstick insanity.
Once this led to me pinballing myself down the hallway, and almost knocking myself out on a doorknob. I walked with a limp for three days.
From my deep sleep I was yanked into semi-consciousness by the barking. I flew out of bed before I was even totally awake, hissing, “SHUDDUP!” as I stumble-ran to the front door.
See, only proving to the hellhounds that there is no one behind the door will get them to stop.
In my sleep-drunk state, I opened the door.
And there was someone standing right the hell there.
I quickly maneuvered into that floating head position where my body is angled behind the door, but my head is poking out.
“Uh…” My Mail Lady stood there looking both shocked and confused. “I need you to sign for this package.”
A brilliant string of profanity is blaring in my brain here.
“Just a second!” I trill and slam the door in her face.
I scramble around looking for something to cover my naked self, and for some reason decided upon a blanket we keep on the couch. I wrap it around myself and reopen the door. The look on the Mail Lady’s face is wonderful. Totally not horrified at all.
She tries to hand me my mail, but I realize I have only left one arm free from the blanket. She is trying to hand me the pen while my one free hand is now clutching a package and stack of mail.
“Erm, this is a bad time, sorry,” I mutter and shut the door again. I quickly wrap the blanket around me like a towel so both arms are free and reopen the door.
It would be here that a HUMAN person would have thought to set the goddamn stack of mail and package down, but I am a friggin’ moron and still half-asleep so this naturally never occurred to me.
I am trying my damndest to sign the stupid paper and balance the package and keep my blanket in place. I am failing. She is now laughing. Bless her heart she is trying to keep a straight face, but who the hell could blame her at this point?
In my very spastic state, I try to hand her back the pen and shut the door, and she reminds me she needs the little paper thing that I actually signed. Crap.
I try to shuffle the things I am holding to get the paper into my free hand, and it is here, my mother effing blanket just falls right the crap off.
Only a corner of it is held up by my package holding arm, so the only silver lining here I have is that she didn’t get to see my left boob. Thank you Louise for your accidental modesty.
Thelma was not so lucky.
The Mail Lady now abandons all hope of composure and is laughing her ass off.
I hand her back the slip and pen, attempt to re-wrap the blanket around me, look in the eyes and say with a pitiful seriousness, “I swear to god, you are going to get the best damn Christmas card ever from us this year.”
Through her tears of laughter, she thanks me, assures me this was the best part of her day, and prances back to her mail truck.
Even after closing the door, I could hear her laughter all the way back to the road.
So, naturally, we need to move. Too many people in this town have seen a very naked me in very unfortunate and unflattering situations. I imagine that Mail Lady, Gas Man, and all the others are going to be having lunch one day, spot me, and be like, “ERMAHGERD! It’s the naked chick! Didn’t your pants fall off at the grocery store!? TWICE!?! BAHAHAHAHA!!!!!”
In other news, if anyone is looking for a gift to give the Fizz for Christmas, I am thinking a robe would be a nice idea. It seems I could use one. I will keep it hanging by the front door.
Or some pasties. At the very least, I could wear those to nap. I doubt they ride up, yeah?
And with that delightful image, I shall bid thee all a good day. I hope it is wonderful, and you are all out voting like absolute bosses.
Until next time,
Peace, Love, and Pasties!!