Flashed An Old Man Friday. Well, Cross That Off The Bucket List.

Generally speaking, I'm pretty on top of the day-to-day operations that make my family run smoothly. I have running my household down to a science. I rarely make an error.

And by this I mean we've never run out of either ice cream or toilet paper.

Both essentials in my household.

With the exception of the oft mentioned (and mocked) fugly hooker shoes, I'm a fairly conservative dresser. I don't enjoy wearing high heels or super tight britches. Low cut shirts just don't do it for me, either. Nothing against those who partake in a little tight pants or revealing shirt, but I prefer to have my bits and pieces covered.

And by this I mean my canned goods stay in the pantry.

(All of humanity thanks me.)

My point is this: my household equilibrium was off and that caused me to accidentally flash a little old man on Friday afternoon. I have no idea how it all happened.

Okay. I have a vague idea.

Remember last week when I blogged about forgetting to buy a couch for the basement? Long story short, we had no couch, came this close to getting a totally bitchin' stiletto chair, but instead settled for a recliner. Well, I kinda sorta omitted the fact that I forgot to do something with the old couch, love seat, and recliner that were currently taking up space in the basement.

That is, I forgot until last night.

A mere twelve hours before the new stuff was to be delivered.

Crap. Crap. Crappity-crap-crap.

I was instantly stressed. I usually don't let stuff like this slide. I'm a planner. I plan for this kind of stuff. I live for planning this kind of stuff. So, what am I going to do with all of this furniture? My husband calmly suggested listing it on Craig's List under 'Free Stuff' in hopes that whoever wanted the furniture would help carry it up from the basement.

My eyes bugged out and I almost threw up at his suggestion. Craig's List. Seriously.

He was stunned and had no idea what my problem was.

Foolish, foolish man. Let me educate him. And (possibly) you.

Craig's List is full of regular people with some pervs and killers sprinkled into the mix to keep it interesting. How do I know this nugget of info to be true? Lifetime, Television for Women. I've learned a lot of stuff over the years from Lifetime. With the notable exception of 'My Stepson, My Lover', Lifetime movies have never steered me wrong.

The only thing I know about Craig's List is that a Lifetime movie was made about the Craig's List Killer. 

Take a moment and ponder that title, will you? The Craig's List Killer. Emphasis on the word killer. Let me just say this: I didn't want to invite a potential killer into my home just to unload some outdated furniture.

As per the norm, I was overruled and my husband listed the furniture on Craig's List. About three seconds later, he had a taker. After about five minutes, he had a waiting list seven people long.

Evidently, free furniture is quite popular on Craig's List. I just hoped it wasn't popular with potential killers.

The woman who was first in line (Rose) wanted the furniture for her daughter. She had no problem providing some muscle to help get the goods out of the basement. The muscle's name was Jerry and he also provided the van to haul the furniture.

I immediately referred to the van as the getaway car and/or the means to transport our dead bodies to the shallow graves Rose and Jerry had already dug for us in a forest somewhere.

My husband chose to ignore my comments.

(This is common in our house.)

Color me surprised when Rose and Jerry showed up at my house Friday afternoon. Rose with her walker, but sadly without her bottom teeth in and Jerry sporting the ever fashionable one-two punch of shorts with black socks and sandals.

Rose told me she was eighty-seven and Jerry was seventy-two. I gave Rose a little ribbing about being a cradle robber. She thought that was hilarious and then she quite seriously informed me that her and Jerry weren't an item. They were just friends.

She stomped the ground with her walker to emphasize this fact.

It's a good thing that Rose and Jerry were just friends because I inadvertently flashed ol' Jerry my boobs. Can you call it a 'flash' if the girls were on display for a solid fifteen minutes? Probably not. That's more of a show than a flash.

In any case, I'm glad Rose and Jerry aren't an item because Rose struck me as the jealous type and she looked like she could probably inflict serious bodily damage with that walker of hers. It didn't even have tennis balls on the feet or anything.

The sad part is that I had no idea my canned goods escaped the pantry until my husband informed me.

After Rose and her muscle had left.

To say I was stunned is a severe understatement. Aghast, shocked, speechless. Horrified, humiliated, mortified. Those about cover it.

But then? Then I was mystified.

How did the pups leave the pen? Who released the Kraken? Who brought forth a new nation?

Target, that's who. I was betrayed by my v-neck Target t-shirt.

Be. Trayed.

Apparently, when I leaned over to steady the couch so my husband and Rose's muscle could take a breather, my shirt slipped down enough to, shall we say, spill the beans.

Good grief. I flashed an old man. Cross that one off the bucket list.

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