So, my dad sometimes reads this blog. Hi Dad! The work you did on your yard this weekend looks great! Please stop reading this post now, 'kay?
I was just at Marshalls, shopping for underpants. Like you do. And maybe I was looking at the not not-sexy underpants, if you get my drift. Because I'm an adult (sort of) and I shouldn't have to feel embarrassed about that.
Something on the other side of the rack caused me to look up. I'd like to think it was devine intervention, but judging by what happened next, probably not.
With my hands full of skimpy underwear, I locked eyes across the rack with a nun.