Three times now (this week…) I have left the house in my pajamas. The first was on Wednesday when I went to pick Shane up from Sasha’s house. They were having Jew Appreciation night at his house since I had turned ours into the IKEA sale pictured in the previous post.

We had left Shane’s car at his work because A: he currently has no air conditioning and B: he was planning on dragging me out of bed at 5:30 to go get his Droid X. So that meant that at 11:30 at night, I was walking out to my car in a tank top, very thin pj bottoms, a robe, and my flip flops. Of course, this just happened to coincide with our next door neighbors arriving home so they got to see me in all of my glory. (Actually, the fact that I have trouble remembering that I shouldn’t walk by open windows before I get dressed probably has half the neighborhood seeing me in all my glory. I’m a peeping tom’s dream!) But I held my head high and walked straight to my car. Then when we got home, they were STILL out there. Probably hoping for a repeat performance. So before we got out of the car I told Shane to act drunk. “Then I can pretend that I just went to drag your drunk ass off the bar stool and bring you home to your family.” His drinking upsets the kitties.

The second and third times were yesterday. After being dragged out of bed at the crack of dawn, I was exhausted and working on a migraine so I stayed home from school. I finally decided that a nap was in order around 4:17. At 4:46, I woke up to a downpour that rivaled the rain I saw when I was caught in a hurricane in Florida. My first groggy thought was “Wow, it’s really storming out there.” Quickly followed by a not-so-groggy “Oh sh*t, my car windows are open!!!!” That is the last time I listen to wunderground.com. 30% chance of precipitation they said. Apparently in Indiana, 30% is code for 110%.

Worst times to not be able to find your keys:

1. You are in labor.

2. You have cut your thumb off with a kitchen knife.

3. It is a freaking monsoon and your car windows are open.

I fly out of bed and downstairs, dig frantically through my purse for my keys, finally find them buried under crap on the table, and go flying out the front door into the downpour in my bare feet and pjs. Thank God I wasn’t napping naked for once. (Just kidding.)

By the time I get to my car, I am completely soaked. Fortunately, the inside of my car wasn’t as bad. I rolled up the windows and then debated what to do. On top of the Ark building quantities of rain, there was also “frequent and dangerous lightening” crashing down around me. Finally I decided to pull my car around to the back of our house and at least park it in the driveway so someone wouldn’t hit it while driving in the storm. Not that I could actually park IN the garage since *somebodies* trailer is in my spot. (Love you, baby!)

So I park, open the garage door, and then wait for a brief pause in the lightening before I jump out of my car and make a run for it. As soon as I am out the door, I hear some guys voice yelling “HEY!” at me. As if I’m going to stop in my second (okay, first) shower of the day and find out what he wants. I continued my dash and made it inside without being struck by lightening. I have no idea who it was that yelled. Maybe it was one of the neighbors wanting to comment on more of my fine attire.

After my mad dash into the monsoon

These pictures do not do justice to how soaked I was. Or how hot my pajamas are.

The third time was later that day when it stopped raining and I went out to get the mail. Our neighbor who lives on the other side of us has a new girlfriend whom I have not yet met. She just happened to step outside to make a phone call as I was traipsing back into the house in my third set of pjs for the day. (The first pair got wet because I was washing our carpet and didn’t roll the legs up.) And of course she’s this really cute and nice girl who, even though I wasn’t even making eye contact (which all people who live in neighborhoods know is code for “I’m acting like you aren’t here right now!”), she gives a very chirpy “Hi!” I reluctantly lift my head, mumble hi, and hurry back inside. Sorry, Neighbors-New-Cute-Girlfriend. You seemed very sweet from our brief exchange and I promise to be nicer the next time we meet.

Assuming, of course, that I’m not in my pajamas.

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