dear mr. trash collector...

...I need to apologize. Early one recent morning, you were treated to an unsavory view as I beat a hasty retreat from the curb where I had just deposited our trashcan.

Unfortunately, instead of seeing my jeans through the gaping hole in my pajama pants, you were unwillingly subjected to a view of my jiggly posterior.

By the way, those dingy white drawers of which you caught more than a subtle glimpse were vintage. I've had them since at least 1995. Mama does love her antiques.

But there's no need to turn in your notice for fear of a future encounter with the ripped pants. That is, unless you take a peak in our can during this week's pickup.

Warmest regards,
The Mama Bear