I don't like to get dressed in the morning. Not one bit. Especially when my plans for the day include television, reading, and blogging. Who needs all that clothing? I'm on summer break and I don't feel the need to dress like a soap opera actress if I'm not leaving the house. (Did you ever notice on soap operas they are all dressed up to sit around their houses? Probably because they have so many visitors since nobody uses the phone on the soaps. Nobody seems to work on the soaps either. I want to live in a soap....but I digress.) I also tend to sleep with nothing on. This is not meant to entice or titillate, it's just hot here in Florida. My point is, I don't like to wear a lot of clothing at home. But since clothing is a necessity in case Sonny Corinthos should stop by, I drag the process out by getting dressed in stages.
Stage 1: walk around with nothing on for a while. Hey, I live alone and I'm on the 4th floor, so shut up.
Stage 2: put on underwear. Avoid the over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder, aka the bra.
Stage 3: put on a long tee-shirt, in case I spill coffee.
Stage 4: shorts or pants, bra - only if I am getting the mail or actually venturing out doors.
So today is no different than any other day when it comes to dressing. I was just in the middle of Stage 2 when I decided to open the blinds in my room. The light came pouring and .....did I mention that I live on a canal with lots and lots of boats? Being on the 4th floor I don't usually worry about being seen in my various stages of undress, but today there was a very beautiful, very large sloop docked outside my window. Its mast had to be at least...well...four stories tall. I know this because there were two tanned blonde men up on the mast doing whatever it is that tanned blonde men on very tall masts do and we were directly in each others' line of vision. It was as if they heard me open the blinds - which is fairly impossible - or they have some sort of man radar that goes off when a half-naked woman is within view. Either way, it was an Accidental Flash.
I snapped the blinds shut and sent up a prayer that they didn't see the boobage. Maybe there was a glare on the windows. Maybe they couldn't see through the tree branches. Maybe their man radar didn't go off. Seconds later I heard the sounds of two men clapping and cheering. So much for the maybes.
It seems they did, indeed, see the boobage.
I'm sure everyone has been a victim of the Accidental Flash at some point or another. Today was just my turn.
I won't be leaving my apartment today.