A pants-free, Bootylicious Zone. Or, you know, my apartment on a Sunday.

Keeping it real since
'77. Barrettes add class
to any occasion. 

I’m pretty sure we’ve all firmly established that I’m restrained and classy at most any time during the day. What’s that you say? You’ve never experienced me, whether on this blog or in real life, to be restrained or classy? That is correct and I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation.

Except to say that there are times when I’m alone in my apartment that I forget that I’ve never experienced a day that involves a tremendous handle on restraint or being classy at appropriate times.  And let’s just get real, it’s a pants-optional zone within the four walls of my humble abode, so class and restraint decided not to even attempt making that journey.

However, one of the dangers of living alone for a long period of time with your cat is that you sometimes forget what is considered “normal” human behavior when in the presence of others.

Case in point: I was feeling pretty good yesterday. The Lupus Walk was a success and, as is always the case, it brought together friends that don’t get to see each other nearly enough. So when I got back to my apartment and reflected on the weekend, I decided that a way to celebrate such a good time was by cleaning my bathroom.

I know, right? Obviously.

So, as I do when it’s time to get down and dirty with some Clorox, I put on my “Cleaning Mix.” Wait, you don’t have a cleaning mix? Then you are sorely missing out. And/or you have a life and no time to make mixes while you dust. Sort of boggles the mind, if you ask me.

Anyway, I put on my purple gloves, turned the water in the tub on and the music up and started scrubbing away. Cut to: about 10 minutes later when there was a knock at the door.

To set the stage, let’s keep one thing in mind: when the knock on the door occurred, I may have taken off my sweatpants and was perhaps belting out the chorus to “Bootylicious” by Destiny’s Child. Also, I may have forgotten to brush my hair. So I was standing in the middle of my tub, pants-less, in a tank top and sports bra and a nest of unwashed hair piled atop my head.

Sorry, boys, I’m taken. 

Me: Hello?
Neighbor: It’s your neighbor.
Me: Hi neighbor! (I really did say this.)
Neighbor, waiting for me to come to the door like a normal person: Uh……
Me, climbing out of the tub: So, I’m cleaning my tub and I don’t have any pants on. Can you hold on?
Neighbor, confused: What?
Me, running to the bedroom to grab pants: I don’t have pants on!
Neighbor: no answer
Me, putting pants on and turning off the tunes, running to open the door: So sorry, I didn’t have on any pants.
Neighbor, looking at me confused: Uh…that’s ok. I didn’t know if you’d be able to hear me knocking over the music.
Me: Oh yeah, sorry. I was cleaning. It’s my cleaning mix.
Neighbor: You have a cleaning mix?
Me: Yeah. It’s the best, you forget you’re cleaning if the mix is right. You should try it.
Neighbor: Well, you definitely seemed to know all of the words.
Me: Oh, but that’s not because of cleaning. That’s just because it’s a classic.
Neighbor, looking uncomfortable: Anyway….you gave us the number to the landlord last spring and we lost it. Would you mind giving that to me again?
Me: Oh sure!
Neighbor: Hey thanks a lot. And I’m sorry that I made you put on pants.
Me: Oh, it’s no big deal. They come off just as easily as they go on.

And then I shut the door and realized that I sounded like a whore.

Whatever, my tub is clean and now I don’t have to worry about fitting new friends into my already busy lifestyle because my neighbors will never talk to the pants-less crazy person ever again.

Happy Monday, everyone!