Newlywed Chronicles, Episode 1

Update: I took this photo last night when I got home. You can see 4/5 of the laundry baskets, the staging area, the dry cleaning pile, and one of Graham's empty drawers.

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While getting dressed for work one day this week, I couldn't locate the skirt I wanted to wear. This isn't surprising given neither Graham nor I put away laundry. Ever. We have empty drawers and just continue to purchase more laundry baskets to hold our clothes.

But back to the story. I couldn't find my skirt and it wasn't in my closet, any of the dirty clothes baskets, or any of the 5 clean clothes baskets that occupy much of the real estate of our bedroom floor. It was also not hanging on one of the posts at the end of the bed that I like to call my personal "staging area".

Hmm...Clearly it must be in the dry cleaning bag in my car.

In only my tights and undergarments, I shuffle out to the garage. Both Pongo and Hudson try to come with me, so I pull the door tightly behind me, preventing their escape. In the mornings they look for any and every way to get into my car and wait for their ride to work. News flash dogs...having a job is no fun. You don't want to go to work (even if it involves a ride). I'd rather sleep in a crate all day if you ask me.

Any who... After searching my car, I realized my dry cleaning bag never made it out to the car. It must be hanging on the bed post.

I shuffle back up the cold garage steps and ...the back door is locked. Seriously? Try again, yup. It's definitely locked. Again folks, I'm in my bra, knickers, and tights. I have no cell phone or keys. Pongo looks at me through the window and desperately wants to help, but we both know I'm on my own on this one. What a conundrum. There is a spare key, but it's located OUTSIDE of the garage. Need I remind you, I'm in MINIMAL coverings.

Okay, problem solved. I'll look in my treasure chest of a car and find something to cover with while I run through the yard to our hidden key. My hopelessly dirty car is of course clean and empty. I don't even have my dry cleaning bag out there. I don't have so much as a raincoat. Wait a minute. I do have a raincoat. It's wadded up and zipped into a pouch for emergencies (and it's in my car).

I locate my raincoat, which just covers the top of my tights, and dash...make that sprint...through the yard until I find my key and let myself back in.

Crisis averted, I head back upstairs to find something a little more available to wear. Hanging right there in my closet (where it's supposed to be) is my clean and dry cleaned skirt.