Undies, Banging And Words

I had an underwear panic this morning.
I put on a new bra, then wasn’t sure if ‘everything’ was in its usual position.
To tell the truth I’m not really sure what the slide-y things on the shoulder are for or why I need three different settings at the back.
Nothing worse than seeing a chest with one nipple looking for shoes and the other searching for aircraft.
Well, for me anyway.
I nearly trotted down to Sassy to ask if my ‘Bristol’s’ were aligned but thought the question;
‘Do my tits look like they normally do?’ would be a bit hectic with a minor hangover and possibly socially awkward in the long run.

I tried not to think about it and set about Cillit Bang-ing the house to within an inch of its life.
I used a whole bottle of the shit!
Each time I went for a whiz I cleaned a different thing. Bath the first time, then the sink, then the bog. I shut the door and applied the same principle to the downstairs facility.
I find it so boring doing it all in one hit.
Even the doors and skirting boards got done before I could smoke my ‘Inner ATM’ into submission.
I didn’t touch the Hoover, so that’s progress and good weed!

The bra panic returned later in the afternoon, when I opened the door to a male acquaintance I haven’t seen in a while, and he looked straight at my tits before my face.

Why does the word Spinster sound so much more horrible than Bachelor?
Why does Midge Ure always look like ‘somebody else’?
I always think,
‘Oh, that’s Midge Ure’, then I’m not sure it’s him until he’s introduced.
Then I get myself pissed off because I can’t think who he does remind me of.