This past Wednesday I arrived home to our apartment a bit earlier than usual, around 5:00pm, as I had played in a golf tournament that day. When I arrived, I saw that our dog walker's truck was outside. Strange, he is supposed to be there around noon, not 5:00pm! I was annoyed, and texted Jeremy that this was just crazy, and I was so annoyed. I walked up to our apartment, and assumed he had just let her out and was on his way out.
I arrived at the apartment, and did as I always do, I took out my gym clothes, and started to change. As I was standing in the middle of our apartment, totally naked, standing in the living room (which is also the kitchen, dining room, closet and family room), I heard the lock turn.
I think to myself: I just talked to Jeremy, so it is certainly not him. CRAP. It is the dog walker.
And there I stand, frozen, paralyzed, naked in the kitchen/family room/closet/dining room that is our studio apartment.
He walks in and I scream. DON'T COME IN HERE.
And then I think, well maybe that was a little strong.
Uh, uh, hold on, I state. The only covering I can find is a garment bag with a new dress I just ordered. I wrap myself in the garment bag and begin running around the apartment trying to find clothes, while wrapped in a garment bag.
Uh, uh, one more second. Just wait there. Uh, uh.
I manage to find some clothes and push the dog towards him.
Uh buddy, try to come on time next time. We live in a studio apartment. Thanks.