Wherein my husband exposes himself to two old ladies.

[Bosda_Di_Chi_of_Tricor]

Anastasaeon~~ Buy your husband the nudist a “Nakedness Kit” for Xmas.

It consists of an empty box…

[Eve]

@Anastasaeon

. . . march proudly around the apartment naked . . . tidying little things up . . . we’d established quite early in the relationship that his anal housekeeping standards were quite impossible to meet by mere mortals . . .

I’ll say! Does he suck up the dustballs with his ass?! I’d pay five dollars to see that.

[Mindfield]

@Eve

I’ll say! Does he suck up the dustballs with his ass?! I’d pay five dollars to see that.

Is Matt’s last name Pujol, perchance?

[Surok]

@SnakesCatLady

There is now coffee all over my desk and two cats. They are not amused, but I am!

And there is wine on my quilt and on my cat.

Shall I send the cleaning bill for the quilt to you, Anastasaeon, or to the Mr? or to the Wee One?

[Ethilrist]

@Eve

I’ll say! Does he suck up the dustballs with his ass?! I’d pay five dollars to see that.

Depends on where he holds the feather duster.

[tdn]

@Eve

I’ll say! Does he suck up the dustballs with his ass?! I’d pay five dollars to see that.

I’d pay even less!

[Cat_Whisperer]

How come your stories always have nakedness/syrup/penisessess in them, Ana? Not complaining; just curious.

(Good to know that Jim’s not the only one who enjoys marching around the house naked. Same attitude, too - when warned that windows are open, to stand in front of one and wiggle it.)

[Jodi]

Great story! I’ve never been caught (so far as I know) but I got trapped in my kitchen once. Wandered in, in the glorious all-together, and then the lawn guy arrived and started working outside the hall windows – the hall being the only exit from the kitchen, unless I wanted to spend some time naked in the garage. I immediately closed the kitchen blinds, of course, but then got to sit buck naked at the table re-reading the paper for about 15 minutes, before the guy moved away and I could do the “lean and peek, lean and peek, step and peek, dash!” back down to the bedroom.

[Ice_Machine]

I loved it. No, he’s not the only one who does this. However, my sister-in-law moved in with us a few years ago so I’ve modestly given in to wearing boxers. It’s tough luck if she’s offended by my Molson six-pack. By the time I finally get rid of her my daughter will be too old (she’s just over 2) to allow me to revert to my natural ways.

[redtail23]

I used to wander nakedly through the house almost all the time I was home. Still do some, but not as much. I kept the blinds mostly closed, but not tightly so.

So one evening, some friends of my housemate came by. I was in the kitchen, cooking, without a stitch on.

“Knock-knock-knock” on the door, pause for a moment to put the cooking on hold, then run-run-run goes the redtail, shouting out a “just a minute” on the way through the living room to the bedroom.

Got dressed, answered the door, chatted for a bit, all is well.

'Twas several weeks later I found out that one of the friends had decided, before I yelled, to peer through the blinds to see if someone was asleep inside before they banged louder.

We all survived, but I’ll bet they all think twice about window-peeking.

Much worse, for me, was the night I reached from the couch and opened the living room door because I heard someone on the porch and thought it was housemate arriving home from work. Of course, it wasn’t housemate, it was housemate’s friend, who strolled in and stayed to chat until housemate got home. And then stayed to chat with housemate for a while longer. A long while longer. Several hours longer. The entire time, I’m completely pants-free, under the little blanket on the couch, unable to move or leave without making a spectacle of myself. That’ll larn me! (To check before opening the door, of course, not to stay dressed. Don’t be silly! And these days, I’d just say “excuse me” and spectacle away.)

[Sunrazor]

@featherlou

(Good to know that Jim’s not the only one who enjoys marching around the house naked. Same attitude, too - when warned that windows are open, to stand in front of one and wiggle it.)

I have GOT to stop sipping Coke when reading **Anastasaeon’s ** threads. It burns my nose something awful!

Wiggles it? Really? Hmmmmmmmm…

[Cervaise]

@Anastasaeon

“What’s the matter, honey?” I ask.

“Someone came home,” he said, voice shaking.

Finally, finally, a golden opportunity to use the SDMB’s single best meme, and not even its creatrix thinks to have penis ensue. Disappointed, I am.

[ouryL]

@Anastasaeon

My darling husband. He of little shame. In the years I’ve known him, he has been known to come home from work, shed his kit, and march proudly around the apartment naked as he prepares to take his shower. Oh, yes, there is preparation involved, here, people. But for reasons unfathomable to me, he must prepare naked.

He walks in the door, kit is immediately shed, folded neatly or thrown in the laundry basket, depending on cleanliness and/or smelliness of each clothing item (and all underwear is automatically dirty, but a work shirt may last another day). Being a man of discriminating apartment-cleanliness, he proceeds to wander around the house, tidying little things up. His theory is that he cannot get in the shower, become fresh and clean, only to come out and find something untidy which will irritate him enough that he must clean it up. Once he’s out of the shower, you see, he wants to be able to relax. No, he never gets irritated with me; we’d established quite early in the relationship that his anal housekeeping standards were quite impossible to meet by mere mortals, and he would take care of any of that type of thing himself. So he appreciates very much that I keep things neat and tidy, however, he will always see something I do not. Always. Hence his patrol around the apartment, nekkid, before stepping into the shower.

Now, in our old apartment, it wasn’t such a big deal. I am a fan of open windows, let the breeze in, air the place out! I like my living areas to smell fresh, I like to see the sky, let in the light. My husband has no problem with this. He just wanders around naked. As I was saying, in the old place, this wasn’t a problem, as our apartment was situated at the top of a hill, and we were surrounded by trees and shrubbery on all sides. No one could see in unless they were trying quite hard, and if they were, they’d be spotted.

In this apartment, however… we are surrounded by other apartments, a house, and an alley. Our front picture windows face the alley. We are on the ground floor.

Time and time again, I have warned him: You will be spotted. Someone will see you walking around naked. Naturally, a part of me wondered if this might be a sort of fetish for him, hoping to get caught. Maybe. However, Wee Mr. Stasaeon has never had much to say on the matter one way or the other, and has always, during these times, remained limp and comfortable. Mr. Stasaeon himself has always loudly proclaimed, “I don’t care. I have nothing to hide. I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”

And so the routine begins, as usual, last night. He comes home, sheds his kit, and begins wandering around the apartment, tidying up. We’re having our regular chit-chat about how our day went, and just as he stands up at the end of the hallway, having picked up some microscopic speck of hair from the carpet, a look of utter shock descends upon his face, his eyes pop comically from his head, and his jaw hits the floor with the sound of iron clanging. I hear him utter one word, low and under his breath: “Whoa.” He makes a dash for the area behind my computer chair, where I’m sitting, and has his hands cupped over the Wee One and looking frightened.

“What’s the matter, honey?” I ask.

“Someone came home,” he said, voice shaking.

I turn and peer out the window. Sure enough, there is a car driving down our alley, suddenly driving a little slower. I can see them: two elderly ladies, and they are pointing. And laughing. And laughing. And laughing. I can hear them. My husband can hear them. I giggle.

“I told you one day you would be spotted!” I scold. He turns bright red and hurries down the hallway and into the bathroom.

“A lesser man would be embarrassed!” he hollers. By the volume and desperation in his voice, I can only assume he is trying to convince the mirror.

:smack:

WHAT!!
No photo to link too?