Living in the country for an extended period of time can cause one to become complacent about certain things — like wearing clothes, for instance. When your nearest neighbor is nearly a quarter of a mile away and the space between is heavily wooded, clothing is optional. Now, don’t get me wrong. We are in no way nudists. After all, we do still have a couple of college-age boys living in our guest house. But I don’t think twice about going out to feed the chickens in the morning while still in my robe (I did learn my lesson about doing this while wearing one of David’s white dress shirts in which I had slept — but that’s a different story). And when David has been out mowing or cutting down trees he usually comes in the back door into the laundry room, strips to his underwear, and then goes upstairs to take a shower. Most of the time this is a fine idea. I appreciate not having all those little bits of grass and dirt to vacuum out of the upstairs carpet. However, it is wise to take precautions.
My friend, Roz (who is no doubt still chuckling about this) was coming over today to pick up some flour that I was going to grind for her. I knew she would be here soon when David came in the back door and I told him this. Still, he kept chatting with me instead of hurrying. Finally he decided he had better go take his shower. Now, if it had been me, I would have had David go make sure the coast was clear, or at least peek around the corner first. But noooo…he just saunters off. I’m standing in the kitchen as he does this and the next thing I hear is, “Uh, Roz is here.”
Sure enough, she has just come up to the front door (clear glass storm door) as David walks by in nothing but his black briefs. He scurries upstairs as I go to open the door. Roz is standing there cracking up. In situations like that, all you can do is laugh. And we both did. A lot!