I had just gotten out of bed and settled Brinley in her pack and play when I heard a knock at the front door. I opened it just a bit, peeking around to see who it was so I wouldn’t let Trooper out. Honestly, I wasn’t wearing a bra, and anyone who’s breastfed knows that things can be a bit… perky, plus I was just in a t-shirt.
Anyway, it turned out to be the tax assessor. He introduced himself and asked if he could come in to check out the house. I said, “Sure! Just give me a sec to lock my dog in the other room.” I quickly put Trooper in Brinley’s room and dashed to find my sweatshirt to cover up a bit.
But I couldn’t find my sweatshirt. I didn’t want him waiting outside while I put on a bra, so I thought, “Oh, he probably won’t notice anyway.” I opened the door and gave him a little tour of the house, trying to keep my arms crossed in front of me without looking too awkward.
He thanked me, wished me a nice day, and left. After shutting the door, I walked over to the mirror to see what he might have seen and how bad it really was.
It wasn’t too terrible. Except for the fact that MY SHIRT SAID “GUESS WHAT I’M NOT WEARING.” Thanks, Dad, for the shirt you got after your LASIK. I think it’s time to toss it in the trash!