It’s winter here, as y’all probably know, and it’s COLD. Even though, temperature-wise, it doesn’t get as cold as Texas, it feels colder because it’s a wet piercing cold that gets into your bones. Austin had weather that was around, at, or below freezing way more often than Auckland does, but it’s just not so damn chilling. Also, back home, it may have been cold outside but inside central heating usually had things all nice and toasty. That is not the case here since most places don’t have central heating; specifically and most importantly, our house.
When I’m at home I bundle up, take long hot showers, heat up a wheat bag, drink cups of hot tea and silently curse all my Texas friends who are complaining about the summer heat in Austin as they post pictures on Facebook of themselves paddling about the Greenbelt or Barton Springs.
Anyway, with the cold and the wet moving in, everyone has been getting sick. Tom has had a cold for several weeks now that he simply hasn’t been able to shake. He’s missed a decent amount of work from it.
Yesterday, in the mid-afternoon, Tom was lying on the couch when he heard a tapping sound. Our front door is a giant ranch-slider, you know those glass sliding doors that usually open into your back yard? When Tom heard the tapping he sat up and there was a weird-looking dude trying to open the door and get inside. Tom locked eyes with the guy who turned and quickly headed down the driveway.
Tom stood looking out the front door trying to decide whether or not the guy just had the wrong house when his eyes fell on the laundry he had just hung out on the clothes horse to dry.
That was when he noticed all my panties were missing.
What sucks for that guy is that this is not a good time of the month for him to be stealing my panties. What sucks for me is that though they might not be the nicest panties, they were extra-protective underwear I’d bought and they were about $30/pair.
The creepy pervert didn’t get nice, sexy underwear but he did manage to take my most expensive underwear.
What a jerk.
Tom said the police were surprisingly interested and spent about 30 minutes at the house getting info from Tom. They said they’d send someone around today to dust the front door for prints.
Tom messaged me at work and told me to make sure I didn’t touch the door handle when I came home, to just knock and he’d let me in. I did my best to remember, I really did. And I managed not to touch the door handle the first time I entered the house. But then, less than 2 minutes later, I went back outside and I forgot and put my grubby little hands on the door handle. So the cops most likely will just find my fat fingerprints and nothing else.
As we were getting into bed I was thinking about it and I said to Tom, “Panty sniffers are weird. I mean, wouldn’t the guy want to know what the woman whose panties he was sniffing looks like?”
Tom smiled his mischievous smile and said, “Maybe he does.”
Guess who doesn’t feel so silly anymore about sleeping with the bedroom door locked when Tom is away?