Monday 8/24/26:
Our weekly trash collection is on Mondays. Since I worked nights last night, I decided to put my trash can out to the curb after getting home this morning, which I did, whilst wearing a floral LulaRoe Julia dress, black ballet flats and sheer blue nylons.
Upon returning to the interior of my house, I realized that the kitchen trash bag was nearly full, so I extracted it from its can (or bin, as it may be known in some localities), tied it up and walked it out to the trash can already sitting on the curb, still wearing the same dress, hosiery and footwear.
At this point, if my neighbors haven't seen me outside in a dress yet, I'm convinced it's because they're intentionally forcing themselves not to look. I'm literally out there, at least as far as my front stoop, nearly every day, and I don't sneak around. I'm blatant about it.
Wednesday 8/25/26:
A couple weeks ago, I ordered a bottle of 9-year old bourbon, from a distillery in Michigan. I live in Wisconsin, which borders Michigan. Why it took so long for my bourbon to arrive from an adjoining state is a mystery to me, but not the point I'm trying to make. The actual point is that my bourbon was delivered yesterday while I was sleeping. The reason I didn't see it on my porch when I woke up and let my dog out is very simple.
It was delivered to the wrong address.
This is the problem living in a house whose front door doesn't face the street. It seems that every dumbass, jackass and just plain ass who delivers things to places has delivered something meant for my house, to my neighbor's house. I mean, their house number ends in 18 and mine in 20, so you can see where the confusion would arise. You can't? Neither can I. It's just plain sloppy work. If you're too stupid or lazy to find the proper delivery address, maybe delivering things to places isn't the highest and best use of your talents.
Anyhoo, when I got home, I changed out of my work clothes and into a gray floral dress. I was already wearing the pink thong panty, the black half-mesh bra and the white sheer pantyhose under my work clothes. I added an anklet and my favorite black ballet flats, and proceeded to let the dog out, when I noticed that there was no package on my porch. So I left the comfort of my house and walked over to my neighbor's house, where, wouldn't you know it, I found my package.
I love being out in public, dressed in feminine things. I hate having to retrieve my parcels from my neighbor's porch. I'm always worried that someone will call the police and report me as a porch pirate. It hasn't happened yet, but I still worry about it every time.
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