Uncovered: A Panty Predicament

I need help. And you all need to read this so you can help me. Please.

On Saturday, while doing laundry, I met a nice woman in our apartment building who was doing laundry just ahead of me. We share machines down there and no one minds if you take out theirs to put in yours, and everything is hunky dory and pleasant.

Later, as I was folding laundry, I noticed a foreign pair of undies. Maroon cottons that looked pretty well-worn, but I didn't go in for a closer look. They had to be hers. Shit. I hate this, I thought.

In retrospect, I should have simply took the elevator back down to the basement and left them on the table, exposed, for her to claim or not claim. But I didn't. Instead, I left them hanging around the house for a few hours, until the site of them suddenly grossed me out and I tossed them. Into the garbage.

Now it's yesterday. Charlie and I are coming home from a walk and who do we run into but this woman. I've lived here for almost 2 years, didn't meet her until the laundry room this weekend, and now here we are, running into each other.

But so what. It's not like I expected what was coming. "Oh, Mary," she says, "Did you happen to find an extra pair of underwear the other day?"

What? Are you kidding me? You're really asking a near stranger for your pair of granny pants back? Am I the only one who would have just let it go? "Oh, yes!" I say (shit!) "Was it maroon?"

"Yes, great!" she's so relieved. "Should I just follow you in to pick it up?"

Shit, shit, shit. "Sure!" I say. Shit—they might still be in the bathroom trash, hopefully not topped off by a poopy diaper. "Come on in."

So she hangs with Charlie as I go to look, hoping she doesn't notice I'm going into the bathroom. They're gone. Damn Chad for taking out the garbage!

I've got 2 seconds to come up with something, and I'm using them to find a way to blame it on Chad. "You know what, they're not where I left them. Let me ask my husband when he gets home. Maybe he's seen them." (Nice thought to put in her head. Shit.)

"Okay, well I'm in 3C. Maybe you can just put them in a plastic bag and hang them on my doorknob when you find them."

"Oh, no," I joke, "I'll just hang them from your doorknob on their own!"

Thankfully, she laughs.

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Now this morning. On my way out I find this note at my door:

Hi Mary

Could you please remember to check on my missing pair of underwear? Believe it or not, I've been losing a pair almost every week for the last month (never had a problem like this before?) so my supply is beginning to suffer.

Thank you! Have a great day!

Kallen (3C)
:)


I want to know how one loses a pair of underwear a week. But this is not what I'm asking you all to ponder. Instead, please tell me: WHAT DO I DO?

I need respond soon, really soon, before I run into her again and have to come up with something awkward on the fly.

HELP!

Yours truly,
Miss-Mannered Laundry in Brooklyn