If you can't laugh at yourself...

This is a cross post from my other blog, but I just had to spread the embarassment a little more of what happened to me yesterday:

There are some things that no matter how absurd, and how incredibly unlikely they are to happen to others, seem almost commonplace in my life.

While leaning over my desk to get a pen I had dropped between it and the window, I heard ripping fabric. That's usually never a good sign. I looked myself over and didn't see any gaping hole in the seam of my skirt, and my sweater seemed intact.

As I stood up, I felt my bra strap ricochet over the front of my shoulder like a popped rubber band. I shut and locked my office door and took off my sweater and searched for the sewing kit I keep in my drawer. Since the rip was where the strap hits the back of the band, I took it off so I could properly mend it. I of course, didn't think to put the sweater back on.

So here I am topless, cussing, in my office. You see where this is going right? Well you're wrong. But only sort of.

I realize I can hear muffled giggling. I bolt around to see if my door had come ajar. Nope. Then I see two men outside - window washing - directly outside of my window on the 28th floor.

I have only seen window washers one other time in the entire three years I've worked here. Of all days, it had to be today. Of all times, it had to be right then. I just laughed and waved, and then turned my back to the window. Because really, at that point what can you do?

And today, they were back. I'm going to have the cleanest windows in the entire country.

I suppose it's practice for Mardi Gras. We leave tomorrow for New Orleans - and no - I will not be flashing intentionally.