Feathered Friends

I believe there several types of people in this life, You know it right? Some like you, some totally foreign even if they have lived on these shores as long as you?

I can categorise three kinds of people… Those who ruffle feathers …and those that get ruffled… and those who are smooth as a ducks back, ruffling = not an option.

Me? I’m a ruffler, generally not perterbed by the status quo and not averse to speaking my mind… The Count? He’s a rufflee, begging for it… a moving target for someone like me, even if I’m not planning a round of ruffling…

*laughs*

Picture This… It’s “Laundry Day” in our “happy” household….

I left my last load in the machine last night and today had totally forgotten it was even there… the Count had a load to do… My load of girly “unmentionables” sitting idly in the machine presents a conundrum for a boy wholly unfamiliar with the ways of girls…

Me? I’d have dragged his stuff out of the machine without giving it a thought, actually, have done it once already.
You get the picture right? Jocks, Socks and Jammies… no dramas for pragmatic me…

He?

Well, I have no proof as I was out of the house but I imagine it went something like…

Paces the laundry “Hrrrmmph”

Lifts the lid

Peers in

Gasps…

It isn’t a sensible white cotton load…

Nope, this is the full monty, a darks load, blacklace, g-strings, skimpy red nightie… every rufflee’s nightmare… Guaranteed To disrupt his ability to look me in the eye without wondering…

God I wish I’d seen his face…Of course if I had been home, it would have been the polite “I need the washing machine… could you empty it please?” As it was I came home to find the offending articles on a dining room chair in front of the machine…

I guess grabbing the Washing basket from my room was more terrifying so I don’t think my imagination is too far from the mark…