I swear these things only happen to me. Today I went out to shovel snow off the driveway, again. I had made it down to the sidewalk and ran into my neighbor. We were standing there discussing the useful qualities of snow shovels and as we examined mine my neighbor said to me, “What is that thing sticking out of your pants leg? Did you tie a bandana around your ankle or something?” I looked down at my ankle and saw something that really did look like a bandana – navy blue with a pattern on it – so I pulled on it and out came, not a bandana, but my underwear from yesterday. Apparently when I pulled off my snow jeans yesterday to jump in the shower my underwear went with them and stuck in the leg of the pants. I put the same jeans back on today to shovel some more snow and there you go…I shoveled my entire driveway with yesterday’s underpants inching their way towards daylight down the leg of my pants only to make an appearance at yet another inopportune moment. The thing that amazed me the most was the fact that I was really not all that embarrassed. This person has been my neighbor for 20 years and has been around for some of my most cringe worthy moments. Just this fall my dog locked me in the laundry room (long story). Fortunately for me there is a window in my laundry room that I could climb out, however both the front and back doors were locked so I went over to this same neighbor’s house to get the extra house key that they keep for me because I lock myself out often. Too bad I had decided not to shower or wash my hair that day or the day before that either. To make matters worse my outfit was not becoming. It was a weekend and I really hadn’t bothered to get dressed. I was wearing sweatpants with a huge hole in the crotch. Hey at least I had pants on. I wasn’t wearing a bra, not a good look for me, and of course a horrible t-shirt I bought on the internet that had a large logo for “Colon Blow” on it. It was one of those purchases that you make when you are with your girlfriends and it sounds like a fun idea at the time. You realize later (usually when you sober up) that you can’t really wear this shirt out of the house…kind of like that “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy” tee shirt I bought at the Texas Roadhouse during Jessica’s bachelorette party. Eighteen dollars spent for something I will never wear. I was even embarrassed to wear that one around the house. So anyway, barefooted and bedecked in my best Murphywear, I very ungracefully climbed out my laundry room window. It was cold outside, so I ran fast across the yard to my neighbor’s back door. Thank goodness it was unlocked and they were home. I sat in their living room telling them my story of how I got locked in the laundry room by my dog and the whole time I’m sure I looked like, and probably smelled like a skank. They are such kind people that they pretended not to notice. Now, that was embarrassing.