This is what happenes when a
geek boy cleans.
Someone who can build their own computer and take apart a car, somehow seems to not know the first thing about taking care of clothes.
That's fine, his multi-pocket jeans and long baggy t-shirts might not need proper care. But I am vain, anal and prissy, I hang up my clothes.
My best friend came over to talk to me last night, Jason took this opportunity to clean the room we have neglected for about a week.
Sweet, everyone loves a man that cleans. And seems to clean well, even my clothes were put away.
I get up this morning, look for my stuff. I find my wool, black, designer pea-coat crumpled up in the corner of the closet in a neat pile of socks, shirts, boxers...
My little, black Mossimo dress I wore the night before, neatly twisted into a ball under a pair of steel-toed boots. My black lace panties stuffed into my knee-high boots on which his huge furry cat decide to clear out it's behind.
OK, OK, so maybe it wasn't that bad, and the clothes were just neatly thrown clear of the blast of light-bulbs, computer parts and of course, tools. My black wool coat was still in a pile on the floor, covered in cat hair... Three cats and a younger brother is not favorable conditions for my prissy self this morning.
But what I really like to know, while sitting and typing this and Jason attempting to deny every word. (OK, so maybe I did exaggarate a bit), is
They seemed to dissapear in a pile of black clothes, stuff, junk and more junk and after a 30 minute search, I think I shall remain pantless, and not very happy.