January 13th 11:25pm - Plumber

Yesterday I supplied my mom with the vast pleasure of my presence in her house. She eventually departed, leaving my solitary self at home. I showered upstairs in my bathroom without ensuring bathing necessities. As I’m rarely home, my bath essentials are liable to location transfer. After the amazingly sweltering shower stopped, I discerned only one towel in the bathroom, a tiny towel. A hand towel. I swathed my body with the minute material (aka gripped it strategically over the front of my body) when I realized my clothes backpack was at the bottom of the stairs. I descended the stairs and stooped, delving through my chaotic clothes. I faced into the house, my rear exposed, front concealed. “Hello?” a voice behind me spoke. We had left the front door open. I rotated to behold a plumber in the doorway. I shrieked and scampered to the nearest blockade (guest bedroom door) as he simultaneously abundantly apologized. My mom text messaged me seven minutes later to warn me a plumber was arriving soon.

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