I got home from work pretty late tonight. It was already dark when I pulled in.
Thank goodness that my house is far enough back off the road that errant articles of clothing and random produce can’t be spotted by neighbors.
Hung around my doorknob, my panties. On my doorstep, one unripe avocado and one ruby red pomegranate (In the car on the way back to the pub, I mentioned my habit of having pomegranante stained fingers, annually, about this time of year. I’m a whore for good produce, so?).
On the back of the grocery receipt, a scrawled note: “I’m now the stuff of carpool legend. Yours, J”
Two points to J for making me blush and for eliciting a reluctant swoon. I never know whether he deserves a backhand or a kiss. Perhaps both? :)