No Spiders in My Bra. Today, Anyway

by Carolyn

Earlier today, I was going nuts with a tiny, erratic, feathery tickle between my BOOBS. It felt like a creepie-crawlie, a feather, or … something. I was pretty sure I really didn’t have a spider in my bra. But it sure felt like it did a couple of years ago when I sat outside for lunch and ambled back to my desk, briefly unaware of the tiny green baby spiders who had rappelled down from the tree into my hair and on my collar and back. (I am itching just thinking about it.)

Today, I kept feeling a faint tickle, like a ghost fingering my cleavage. I kept scratching and taking less and less surreptitious reconnaissance missions down my V-neck, but all I saw was me.

Tickle.

Scratch.

Type-type.

Tickle.

Scratch-scratch.

Type-type-type.

Tickle.

Adjust necklace.

Tickle-tickle.

Yank neckline out to peer down between “the gals” in search of a gnat or other unwelcome guest.

I finally stomped off to the bathroom, peeled down to the undies, and - thank goodness - found the errant thread dangling lightly from my LAST GOOD BRA. I had to snip the wisp in lieu of continuing a festive afternoon of plundering around in Hooterville while at my cubicle.

My GAWD I’m elegant.

Photo credit: Roger Smith