The Sunbathing Continues...

I'm sitting in my office working on a report (how did it get to be June 2nd already?!?) when suddenly I detect a presence. I look up to find Mrs. Sunbather standing in front of my desk. I guess the reason I didn't hear her come in is because she is barefoot. She is also wearing a pair of sunglasses and.......


wait for it!!



One of these little numbers:





Except hers was more of a faded baby blue color with a little anchor on the leg, elastic that would fit around my jeep, and vintage, oh, about 1981, I'd say. It was also at least two sizes too small, which is just a guess based on the amount of ass cheek that was hanging out.
"I'm so embarrassed I had to come to the office dressed like this," she begins. I'm breathing deep, trying not to snicker, and mentally writing this post as the scene unfolded. "But I went outside to get some Vitamin D... just 15 minutes is all you need, you know...and I guess the door was locked when I closed it behind me and now I'm locked out and this is all I have on." As she explains her plight she is waving her arms around and I am unbelievably distracted thinking that any minute one of those 85-year-old boobs is going to pop out of the top of the stretched-out terry cloth when suddenly my preoccupied mind starts singing, because that's just how my tracks roll when it comes to ye olde train of thought.

Mammories.
If I see them I'll go blind.
Fleshy white-colored mammories
That's the way they were.

Terry cloth romper,
That should've been left behind
Barely covering wrinkled mammories
That's the way they were.

It's official. This job is making me crazy.