I sat in my garage for a few minutes after Joe dropped me off. With some strategic placement of my jacket that I was holding after we dropped Amy off, I was able to disguise the mess his daughter forced me to make in my pants. The next trick was getting my pants and boxers washed before my wife, Karen, spotted the evidence of my afternoon delight. Thankfully, she was busy preparing for a party we were hosting that night and I was able to slip past her to get to the laundry room off the garage.
My phone buzzed as I was changing into some workout clothes, but before I could grab it my wife opened the door to the garage. “There you are–I thought I heard you come in the front door. Why didn’t you say hi? And why are you doing laundry?”
“Hey babe–we had to take Joe’s daughter to pick up some stuff for school and she dropped her frappe-whatever as she got in the car. It got all over my pants, so I wanted to wash them before the stain set.”
“Hmmmm…did you remember to put the stain stuff on it?”