This week’s moment involved, of all things, going to the Social Security Administration office. I had received a letter from the IRS saying basically that they didn’t know who I was. Now, I’ve been the same person for 36 years, but it seems since I got married and changed my name on my social security card that somehow they lost me.
Anyway, I have my five year old working on her kindergarten worksheets (we homeschool) and I have all the papers I need filled out and I’m waiting on my number to be called. All is well with the world. The five year old is wiggling, but there is an empty seat beside her. I have things under control. I am superwoman today! And then it happens.
You see, I know that I can’t sit there for as long as I’m going to have to sit there without getting utterly bored and getting into trouble, so I brought along something to do. I’m working on making a crocheted afghan for my husband’s cousin who is getting married this summer. I have it in a bag at my feet. After getting my daughter settled and double checking to make sure I have all the paperwork I need with me, I set out to pull out my blanket. Except the blanket is not the only thing that comes out of my bag. Attached to it is the bra that I put in the bag the other day because I hid it there when someone knocked at the door. I had forgotten about that completely – even though I had been looking for that very undergarment a few hours before when I got dressed. The man beside me widened his eyes considerably. I’m not sure about the other people in the room because I was in the front row – where everyone had a glorious view of my undergarment. Of course I stuffed the bra back into the bag, meekly smiled at the man next to me – who I’m proud to say reddened a bit in embarrassment – and went on about my crocheting.
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