I was reminded of this incident while I was writing last week's post.
It was one of those days from the start. Waking up late for work, not having any cold cuts to make a sandwich for lunch, hair not cooperating, and then the capper: I got a HUGE run in my hose. Sometimes, if I'm wearing tan/nude hose I can get away with it but these were black and ran from mid thigh to ankle.
In other words, OBVIOUS.
The only GOOD spot to all this was that my dad was giving me a ride to work. I had him stop off at the store so I could buy a new pair of panty hose. He dropped me off at the office and drove off. I unlocked the front door, and crossed the reception area quickly to enter the security code.
For the record, I HATE entering PINs, passwords, and security codes. I'm always afraid I'll get it wrong. It's kinda like trying to keep a simple beat, and once you're aware of the beat and have the fear you might screw up you inevitably lose it.
So, it didn't surprise me on this day of all days, I mis-entered the code. I had learned, though, if you just enter it properly a second time it cancels out the bad one and everything is hunky dory. So I did just that. I quickly re-entered the code, the sirens did NOT wail, so I went into the main office, powered up my computer, turned the answering machine off, and headed to the restroom to change out of my ripped panty hose.
I had inadvertently bought a pair of control top hose. You know the ones that are like SUPER tight? Yeah...well, it turns out trying to pull on a pair of those suckers was next to impossible while glistening with sweat -- it was over a hundred degrees outside, plus the stress of the morning....I hadn't exactly kept my cool.
That's when the phone rang. I had the hose pulled up to my knees at this point so I penguin walked to my desk. The attorneys wouldn't be in for a while, and my desk was only five feet from the bathroom. I have no real explanation for why I did this. I could have let it go. It wouldn't have been the end of the world.
My only excuse is that I have an almost compulsive
desire need to answer ringing phones. I'll be at Target or the bank or the doctor's office and if hear one of their internal phones going off I seriously have to restrain myself from answering.
So there I was, knees bound together from the tightest pair of hose in history, leaning over my desk to reach the phone.
It was the police. Turns out we didn't have an audible alarm at the office. We had a silent one that automatically called the cops. They asked if I was okay...if I were being held against my will. I thought of my binding hose and tried not to laugh. I told them I was fine, that I'd mistyped the code. Kind of a "thanks for coming, see ya later" response.
They asked me to come outside to prove I was okay and not being held hostage.
I know they were just doing their job but the timing of this particular request wasn't exactly convenient. Can you picture me waddling out to the front yard with my panty hose stuck at my knees and chatting with the Captain?
There was NO WAY I was going outside just then. Now, I could have agreed, hung up the phone, wrestled my hose on the rest of the way, and THEN gone outside. That would make sense.
But since when does ANYthing I do ever make sense? Besides the compulsive need to answer ringing phones, I also have this unfortunate inclination to want to respond immediately to requests from authority figures. Stress on immediately.
I'm quite an obedient wench.
And so I was in a bit of a quandary. The need to go outside NOW at war against the need to finish what I started with my hose.
And that's when my third compulsory behavior kicked in.
Care to guess what it might be?
I'm a chronic truth-teller.
Sooooo, I explained to the officer on the phone why I couldn't go outside...that I was tied up but not in any malicious way...and asked if he could give me just a minute to set things straight.
He tried not to laugh. I don't know how he managed, cuz I'm laughing at myself from way over here! I went to the bathroom, and tried pulling those suckers up the rest of the way...and I don't remember if I gave up or if I ended up putting a run in the new pair too. Either way, I ended up going out to meet the officers bare-legged.
(I DID have my skirt on! I swear!)
The moral of this story is this: If you get a run in your hose, just stay home. Don't risk police intervention.