I Think I Mooned My Contractor

It is late. I am steam-mopping my family room. Mr. Contractor is still outside, contracting.

Note: It is actually 9:00 p.m., which may not seem late in the traditional sense. However, to some readers it may seem late to be steam-mopping the family room, but to anyone who knows the Trophy Wife, it is not a surprise at all. It does seem late, however, to be putzing around outside with a flashlight and 30' ladder.

My family room has a large slider and lots of windows. But it is late. It is dark. I am not looking out the windows. I am steam mopping. But even if I looked out the windows, I would see nothing. It is dark.

Unfortunately, although I cannot see out, others can see in. It is the whole basis of the Peeping Tom's Strategy.

Note: Mr. Contractor is not a Peeping Tom. He is merely in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I am mopping. Happily. I love my steam mop. And perhaps because of the steam, I don't know for sure, as I'm bending and reaching, my pants are slipping and sliding.

Note: It could also be on account of the fact that a) my bum is bumless and/or b) I need a belt.

I try to hitch the pants up with my thumb, but it requires more ummph than I can render and I have almost reached the far corner of the room so I keep mopping and bending and reaching and unfortunately, slipping and sliding.

The air feels cool on my bum.

I hear knocking. Rubi barks. I drop the mop. I stand up, hitching up my pants. I turn. To the slider.

It is Mr. Contractor. Literally three feet away. In the dark. In the night. I think he may be smiling.

Mr. Contractor is expensive. But this time, he gets more than he is paid for.