A few days ago I was blowing snow from the driveway, puttering along mindlessly when I saw a pink something fly out of the chute and go sailing into the yard. At first I thought it might be a small animal or bird, but the color was wrong. Bright, fluorescent pink. I turned off the machine and tramped over to take a look. A small tangled wad of pink fabric of some kind. I probably looked like some sort of curious Inuit, bundled up in my parka and snowmobile mittens, investigating a rare find on the arctic tundra. I took off a mitten and picked the thing up holding it close to my face so I could train my bottom bi-focal lens on it. Fabric all right. With writing. I doff my other mitten and take hold of it with two hands. I'm not sure what I'm seeing. It takes a few seconds for my near frozen eyeballs to relay the information to my brain that I am standing, transfixed, in my snow covered back yard holding a Victoria Secret "PINK" brand thong close to my face, staring at this tiny bit of fabric like it was the Holy Grail itself. Once recognition kicked in I instinctively flung the thing away while my brain shrieked, "Thong!No!Thong!No!Thong!No!Nononono!
Once I recovered from my mental thong trauma event a few seconds later, my Sherlock Holmes brain kicked in and I began to puzzle out the mystery of why there was a thong buried in the snow in my driveway. Okay, so I'm a little slow on the uptake, but I'm not stupid and in no time I figured it out. A few days before, Z-girl and her roomie Mol, were at the house doing laundry. Both girls had mountains of clothes and they spent the afternoon washing, drying and watching Cartoon Channel. I made them dinner then they had to leave to go to separate study group meetings. Mol asked if I would throw her last load into the drier and she would pick it up later. I offered to throw the clothes in a basket and bring it in the next day when I went to work. Evidently, a pair of her underwear fell out of the basket while I was getting it into the car and I didn't see them. Case solved, which would have been all well and good. However, my brain kept ticking along and soon I had several grim scenarios going through my head, all of them involving me being labeled as some sort of thong stealing pervert who likely had God knows what else sort of sick things going on at my house. I had visions of computers being confiscated and reporters staking out my house, going through my garbage. Me having solemn discussions with my company's lawyer and the college's provost eventually winding up with me in a tiny room talking to a detective. I've watched enough "Law and Order", I know how this shit goes down.
I decided to come clean so I talked to z-girl at the campus coffee shop.
"So guess what shot out the snowblower this morning while I was doing the driveway?"
"Omygod - you didn't run over a cat or something?"
"No. Just a thong."
"A thong? Where would that...whaa?"
"I think it fell out of one of the laundry baskets you guys had this weekend then it got snowed on."
Z-girl proceeds to have a giggling fit.
"Do you have any thongs by chance?"
"No. It's probably Mol's."
"That's what I thought. Shit. What if she misses it?"
"She won't miss them. She has tons of clothes."
"You don't get it. What if she misses them, then puts two and two together and assumes that I have them. And since I haven't said anything, she'll think I'm some sort of panty stealing perv."
The giggling fit breaks down into uncontrollable laughter.
"Oh, that's really really funny. Wait'll tell her!"
"What? NO! HELL no! Nononono - you can't say anything! We just do like we do with everything in this family. Kill it with silence and eventually it will be forgotten."
"C'Mon dad - it's no big deal. It's friggin' hilarious! The funniest crap always happens to you."
"No. You will say nothing. You have no idea what could happen. Now, let's talk about something else. Stop laughing."
So. This was a week ago. It's almost time for Z-girl to do laundry again. I figure if Mol doesn't come along to do laundry too, then I will know that she thinks I am a perverted old man. Which I might be, but not like that.