I'm typing this under a medicated Nyquil-haze, which probably explains my willingness to out myself on what may be a semi-icky post, but here goes nothing.
I was talking to BFF Trisha on Thursday, as I drove toward Cincinnati. We were talking about packing and I mentioned that it's always a relief to visit her because even if I forget something, she'll have it. We're the same shoe size, we use the same hair products, exchange clothes and jewelry, etc. We hung up and I continued driving and about an hour later--for no reason I can discern--a lightbulb went off in my head. I called her back.
"For the love of God," I said. "I forgot to pack the only two items on the planet I can't borrow from you."
"And that would be....?" she asked.
"Bras and underwear," I answered.
Seriously. Who leaves the house forgetting to pack bras and underwear? This girl, that's who.
"That's okay honey," said Trisha. "That's why God made Target. We'll hook you up when you get here."
I arrive in Cincinnati and on pretty short order, we head out to Target. Since Trisha knew we would be making a Target run, she made out a short list of things she needed to pick up, which included wine and q-tips.
Add to this that on my way into Cincy (and this is the TMI part of this post--you've been warned) I started my period. I wasn't supposed to start my period and had nothing with me so we added feminine supplies to the list.
Now, picture this. It's a late Thursday night and two attractive middle-aged woman in full make-up are in the check-out line at Target. We have before us one beige bra, cheap (5 for $15) underwear, tampons, q-tips, and red wine.
I turned to Trisha. "That's a party in a bag, right there," I said.
"Wild women on the loose," she agreed. "We still know how to bring it."
So I got to see BFF, drink wine, AND bring home souvenir underwear.
It just doesn't get much better than that.