The cleaning woman who comes through our office every day found a damp pair of boxer shorts in my wastebasket yesterday. I put them there. They were mine.
Underpants can end up in all kinds of strange places. I once saw a pair of baby blue shorts dangling from a black wrought-iron fence at my bus stop one morning. Who can imagine the hurry their owner must have been in to have abandoned them so.
My excuse is really very simple. Despite being in a tightly sealed container, which was inside of a sealed Ziploc freezer bag, the beets in my lunch leaked all over the inside of my gym bag. Luckily, my boxers took the brunt of the staining. My brand-new white gym shoes got a dab here and there, but nothing too bad.
I didn’t mind tossing out the shorts. They were dark blue but way beyond saving. They were old. And I was not about to wash my shorts in the sink at the office!
I shudder to think what fictions those wet, stained shorts must have ignited in the cleaning lady’s imagination when she fished them out of my garbage — with me sitting right there. (No wonder she didn’t say hello yesterday!)
... but enough about me 
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