Panties. In My Yard.

Sometimes I let Natalie run around the front yard in the morning.

This helps me wake up, actually. I’ll sit there on the front step and the blast of fresh air usually gives me some energy.

I was doing that yesterday. I was daydreaming about a Big Mac when Natalie suddenly yelled, “Panties!”

Huh?

“Panties!” she repeated, coming over to me.

My heart lifted. Panties! She wanted panties! She wanted to potty train! Yes! You have to understand that Natalie is being ultra stubborn about potty training. Apparently the toilet is beneath her or something.

“You want panties?” I said, leaping to my feet. I was all set to race inside and get a pair. We’ve bought so many: Yo Gabba Gabba, Wonder Pets, Disney Princess, panties with hearts, panties with stars, panties with happy faces....

Natalie shook her head and stared at me as though I were a complete imbecile. “Panties are der,” she said, pointing to the corner of the yard.

Um. Huh?

“Come,” Natalie said, grabbing my hand. She started tugging me to the yard and that’s when I saw them in all their pink glory.

Panties.



Wadded up in our yard.

I immediately started looking all over as though I expected to find a woman strolling along without any undergarments.

But there was no one.

“What panties doing der?” Natalie wondered.

My thoughts exactly.

What WERE panties doing there?

Did Tom have a REALLY good time at work the night before?

Did a woman abruptly decide that she didn’t want to wear underwear today?

Maybe the teenagers that walk across my yard to get to the bus stop dropped them. Perhaps they slipped on a sexier pair and deposited the others? (Ew!)

It’s really windy here, maybe someone was doing laundry and the pink panties decided to make their escape. In my yard.

I had no idea what to do.

For a brief second I contemplated calling 911.

The conversation would probably go something like this:


911 Operator: 911, what’s your emergency?

Me: Panties.

911 Operator: Excuse me?

Me: Panties. There is a pair of pink panties in my yard and I have no idea where they came from. I’m afraid to touch them because suppose they are diseased? You never know these days. It can be a Bret Michaels Rock of Love type of world and we're just living in it.


And then they’d send out a bomb squad who would cover the panties with one of those tiny glass domes and then blow it up. Sort of what happened on Monsters, Inc when the human sock was blown up.

Well, probably not.

I knew I had to do something though. If I left the underwear then we could get written up. Since we live on base, the outside of homes are inspected weekly. If something is wrong, a citation is given. If you get so many citations, you can get kicked out.

If I left the underwear I’d probably get a citation that said, “Unsightly item in yard.”

I was tempted to knock on the neighbor’s door. But what would I say?

“Excuse me, did you lose a pair of undies?”

I’d probably be arrested because they’d assume I was coming onto them.

I knew I’d have to get rid of them. But how?

I grabbed a sick and tried to pick them up that way.



But then there was a gust of wind and the panties nearly blew right at me.

“Get away, get away!” I shouted, tossing the stick with the panties down.

“Get away!” Natalie repeated.

In the end I snapped on some gloves and scooped up the underwear like it was a pile of poo.



I hope no one comes searching for their britches later.

‘Cause if they do, I’ll have to direct them to my trash can.

My apologies.