So this morning there was a knock at the door. It was loud and insistent and I was fully prepared to throw some how-dare-you-beat-on-my-door-this-early-in-the-morning-how-did-you-know-I-wasn't-still-sleeping shade on whoever was at the door. Normally I don't answer the door if I'm home alone and not expecting anybody, but Billy was on a conference call in the dining room, so I felt it was safe to answer. As I approached the front door, I could see the back end of a police car through the window. When I actually made it to the door, I saw a uniformed police officer (apparently policemen in my county are just awesome looking, because every one I have encountered has been so cute--the firemen too), peering through the side window. So I opened the door and he asked if everything was OK. There was an open 911 call from our house and he wanted to make sure we where cool. Turned out that Billy had dialed 911 by accident when he was conferencing in to a call, and the 911 call was never disconnected. It also turned out that I answered the door and talked to Mr. Cute Policeman in a purple tee-shirt and pink floral panties. I couldn't even muster a feeling of embarrassment, because 1. It hadn't occurred to me that I didn't have on pants until he was long gone and 2. I'm sure I wasn't the first person he had ever seen answer the door in their undies on a 911 call and 3. This was also not the first time a man knocked on my door and had the pleasure of finding out what kind of underwear I was wearing--read about that here.
*shaking my head*