Boob Dress

I accidentally cleaned my whole apartment today.

It started innocently enough. I was looking for my boob dress for New Year's. My boob dress is the most ta-ta displaying outfit in my collection, and I haul it out for special occasions involving alcohol consumption and inappropriate behavior. (Like New Year's, for example.) Unfortunately, I couldn't find it.

I knew I hadn't left it at my folks', because I'd just left there and hadn't had it with me the whole time. It had to be somewhere in my apartment, but that somewhere wasn't in my bureau or in the top three strata of laundry on the floor of my closet. In desperation, I took EVERYTHING out of my closet, something I haven't done for ... well, let's just say there were dinosaur bones at the bottom. No boob dress, though.

Next I moved all my furniture. I found 73 cents, enough dust to fill a shoebox, a pair of underpants, and five novels. No boob dress.

I took all my clothes out of my drawer. In addition to the stuff I knew I had, I found my eight grade softball t-shirt, one bright pink fishnet stocking, an old embroidered hankie of my Grammy's, and about nine orphaned socks. Still no boob dress.

As I was cleaning out my drawers, though, I noticed that the bottom one had jumped its track. This happens a lot, because my bureau is a cheap wicker dealie from Target. It's a pain in the ass, but that's what you get for 80 bucks. Anyhoo, while I was fighting with it, I took it out for a minute entirely and found my boob dress in a drift of dust bunnies, alongside more pocket change and two t-shirts I forgot I owned.

In summary: Hubley 1, boob dress 0. Happy New Year everyone!