Friday night, Ricky took Braylon with him to the Woodburn outlets while I stayed at home with Angel to do some housework. Not a typical Friday night, but hey, you gotta do what you gotta do. So I’m taking the clean clothes out of the dryer (mostly Ricky’s clothes he’d transferred from the wash, to dry) and I come across a pair of panties I don’t recognize. For the life of me, I wanted to recognize them, but no amount of squinting or examining or wishing was makin’ that happen.
Hmmm. On a account of some baggage I have from our past years ago, I picked up my cell with my sweaty palm & dialed Ricky…told him of my discovery, and waited. Then after a few seconds of silence, I chimed in again (my voice may or may not have risen in volume at this point), “I don’t know what to think. What’s a wife supposed to think.” To his adamant “I don’t know”s, I finally cut the crap & replied with a dauntless, “Are you having an affair?!” This may have been jumping to a conclusion, but at this unexpected moment of mystery, unlike a typical problem-solving man, I could literally think of no other conclusions to jump to. So as the hours crept by that night, this became my goal.
After the kids were good ‘n tucked, Ricky & I sat on our bed together. We were due for an awkward moment like this. He looked at me with a half grin, like it was all he could muster to keep from laughing. I looked back at him, eyebrows raised & lips pursed. He said with an almost cocky attitude that he was completely innocent. And added later that when I remember whose they are, he expects an apology. And so began our detective work with the assistance of his boss & his bother in law, via text.
These were our Top 3 options (notice I am leaving out the obvious)…
1.) They were planted in our laundry somehow, as a part of a cruel practical joke (from an audaciously flirtatious adrenalin-seeking woman from work or a friend in search of cruel revenge)
2.) They were left at our place by a female who spent the night at some point (which meant my mom in law in her 50’s, who visited us a month ago – or our 10 year old niece. Yes, the pantie-style was that ambiguous)
3.) They were part of a load of laundry my mom did @ her house, along with some of my kids’ clothes, were stuffed into a plastic bag & sent back -to the wrong house (Could happen. Haven’t you seen Toy Story 3?)
In pursuit of the truth, we took a picture & emailed it out, asking if they looked familiar. This is something a guilty man admittedly would be hesitant to do, so the fact that Ricky initiated this, lowered my blood pressure a good 10 points.
I called my mom. There was no way they were hers. She only buys cotton. Hmmm…
Ricky asked our brother in law if he was getting us back for a viscous TP job we did at their house on Halloween. Nope. And his daughter, our niece, wouldn’t wear that kind. Hmmm…
The list of owners was instantly whittled down to:
- An audaciously flirtatious adrenalin-seeking woman from work, or
- Ricky’s mom, or
- The obvious underlying option I didn’t want to think about: a woman Ricky was totally lying about, who came over to our home and took part in some kind of scandalous activity and then left her undergarments in our sacred home
It was too late to call his mom, so we sent her emails & texts, and then I took a Tylenol PM. The next morning, after she hadn’t called us for several hours, we called her. Things were looking up…they sounded familiar. But the real answer, the one we were looking for, didn’t come until later that day when she was able to open her email & see those photos.
“YES, those are mine! They were part of a 3-pack. I thought they were missing!”
And at that, the case of The Unidentified Panties…was solved. We’d finally gotten the “bottom” of it. A week ago, Braylon had grabbed 7 or 8 items of clothing out from the crack between the washing machine & the wall. This blasted item happened to be stuck in that crack. We sighed a huge sigh of relief; I prayed a huge prayer of thankfulness.
And, yes, I did apologize, a delayed but very sincere apology.
ps ~ to any females who will ever stay over at our place: MAKE SURE YOU PACK UP ALL YOUR PANTIES and BRAS when you leave or there will be hell to pay!