Poorly judged naked dash.
I admit that I’m prone to risking the odd naked dash. My room is roughly four steps (or seven girly trots) from the bathroom and when my towel is busy wrapped up on my head I often can’t be bothered to get another one to cover my dignity. What’s four steps, after all?
Turns out four steps offers plenty of time for my dad, who was hopping around waiting for me to vacate the bathroom, to burst forth from his room and catch me, completely naked, scurrying to my bedroom.
So awkward that even just remembering it makes me scrunch my face up and click my fingers like a maniac as though that might be able to undo it.
This happened about 5 hours ago and I’ve been in my room avoiding the family ever since. Wearing all the clothes I own.