Mal ,'Our Mrs. Reynolds'
Off-topic discussion. Wanna talk about corsets, pandas, duct tape, or physics? This is the place. Detailed discussion of any current-season TV must be whitefonted.
Locker rooms totally don't count. Working at krav meant I was often in just panties in front of students and teachers, and as far as I was concerned there was a clause of no-concern there. Although some people did go into the stalls to change.
Which, ew, stalls, and there were only two, so sometimes you had to do the pee-pee dance while people were changing clothes.
They have 5 or 6 curtained dressing rooms, but I can't be bothered. I pretty much discard all modesty in the locker room.
My sister finally sent me the stuff I need to do my taxes.
This morning.
Niiiice.
Pregnancy sort of ruined modesty for me. I was still getting stitched up after Sara's birth when a woman from the kids' school, and only a very casual acquaintance, but also a NICU nurse at the hospital, came in to see me. I was pretty much like, hey, don't mind the gore, I'm good, there's my baby.
I'm doing my taxes now AINFG.
Well, Amy, a NICU nurse has seen it all since they do attend emergency C-sections where they think a kid will be in the NICU. I had at least two in my delivery room (along with surgical OB nurses, 5 doctors and a partridge in a pair tree).
I recently realized I have no fire escape from this apartment, and now I'm scared. There's a weird ledge off my bathroom window that doesn't lead anywhere, but might let me get to an adjoining window, if I could get out that window. Which I'm not sure I could, since the window itself is screwy.
In short: I hope my apartment doesn't catch on fire.
My boss seems to have a nervous tic where he tells me something vaguely personal while he signs my timesheet. Today was about taxes, and I felt such shame--I'd promised myself I'd do them yesterday, but I only got as far as gathering the documents.
ita, instead of doing my taxes, I am sending you some SPN related pics