An awkward moment

As you may know, I’m at home most days.

I do the breakfasts, the school run, then I sit down to do some writing. I have lunch, then I clean and do the cooking for dinner. I’m a busy man. I don’t often find the time to walk around stark bollock naked. But I’m wondering now if I might have a reputation for doing so.

This week’s writing prompt from @Post40Bloggers is ‘an awkward moment’ and so it seems like a good time to… well. Let me explain.

Are you sitting comfortably?

It was a normal day. I wrote for a while in the morning, did some tidying up and at 12.30pm decided to go for a run. If I’m totally honest, I hate running with a passion but it’s free exercise and it helps me think. I read a great post recently called Running off ‘the mean reds‘ by @margotbarbara and I totally get what Elizabeth means. Read it if you have the time and I suggest you find the time as it’s a great piece of writing.

So, yes. Normal day. Time for a run. I went upstairs and took my running gear into the bathroom to get changed. I got undressed and realised I’d left my running leggings in the bedroom.

These are the compression leggings I run in which, according to my loved one, make me look like a pigeon. The leggings which, when I first got them, I couldn’t take off when changing for dinner because they stretched FOREVER when I attempted to pull them past my feet. The running leggings which, as I couldn’t take them off, I kept on under a pair of trousers while out at dinner that evening, causing me to sweat through our meal like someone with a virus.

They’ve already caused enough problems.

So, there I was, naked as the day I was born, as I walked from the bathroom to the bedroom to retrieve my leggings. I remember doing a few lunges and stretches while I stood in the bedroom. I didn’t want to injure myself. I may have also absent-mindedly scratching my arse as I stood looking in the wardrobe trying to find my leggings. Yes. There was singing too. To accompany the lunges. I then found my leggings and turned…

…to see the window cleaner at the glass.

Nothing preceded this. There wasn’t a  cheery whistle or a squeak of chamois leather against window pane indicating window cleaner at the window. The first I knew of the window cleaner at the window was seeing the window cleaner at the window. And the look of horror on his face.

I’ve been fortunate enough to see Edvard Munch’s Scream up close in The National Gallery of Oslo. Munch wrote in his diary about the event that inspired this iconic work;

‘I sensed a scream passing through nature; it seemed to me that I heard the scream. I painted this picture, painted the clouds as actual blood. The color shrieked. This became The Scream.’

That’s the face I saw in the window.

To be honest, everything went in slow motion. For a moment I thought he’d disappeared after he’d feasted his eyes on my own iconic work. Hoped perhaps. I thought he’d leaned back and he and his ladder were slowly falling to the floor. I was convinced the next thing I’d hear would be a crash.

I didn’t hang around to look to see if I’d killed him. I legged it back to the bathroom and then… yeah, THIS IS HOW BRIGHT I AM SOMETIMES, got dressed to return to the bedroom to look for my leggings. I returned to the scene of my exposure, FULLY CLOTHED, as if nothing had happened. So I could say to the window cleaner, if he was still there, ‘Me? Naked? Sir, how DARE YOU! Of course that didn’t happen.’

Ten minutes later there was a knock on the door. I handed over some money, I have no idea how much, and we did not exchange eye contact. I thought I should say something. Something like ‘You know? I don’t ALWAYS WALK AROUND NAKED YOU KNOW?’

But I’m not sure he’d believe me. You see, while I walked naked from the bathroom to the bedroom, showing off my gentleman’s area, lunging and stretching, I was singing ‘Don’t you wish your girlfriend was HOT. LIKE. ME.’

I’m not sure he’ll be back.

I hope so though. I’m afraid of heights and I’ve only got a little ladder.

Thanks for reading, and if you feel inspired to write about An Awkward Moment, don’t forget to give the truly wonderful @HerMelness and the gang at @Post40Bloggers a shout. And if you like what we do here at please nominate ZmG for a Britmums BiB award or a MAD Blog award. If you do, I’ll come round and tidy your airing cupboard as thanks.

Not a euphemism.

TTFN, and have a wonderful Easter.

6 comments on An awkward moment

  • Ziggy Mondus

    Wouldn’t happen with our window cleaner Spen. He uses a half mile long ‘hose pipe’ with a pump in his van (I realise that might sound like a euphemism but it isn’t) and stands in the garden to clean the windows.
    Granted, his wife has a short ladder to do the smaller windows and they’re a great team.
    I remember when I was a painter a thousand years ago, I went up a ladder to paint the bathroom window, which I’d been up and prepared earlier, so it was open ready for painting.
    Well, I got there and found a great white shark – sorry – arse, ponting at me, sat on the pot, and began scooting straight back down the ladder. “Dun’t wurry abaart me mate, thee get on wi’ it lad!” Came the repose from above.
    I was too scarred, yep, scarred, not “scared” mistyped, to go back up there until long after the flush subsided.

  • John Adams

    Well Spen, delighted to have found Zeit My Geist after ages of promising myself I must visit (your comment on my blog prompting me to do so). Classic Spen this, and written so well. What a choice of song. You just couldn’t make it up. As it happens I once had a window cleaner disturb my bath. That was a bit awkward.

  • Helen @actuallymummy

    Oh I’m so happy reading this post. Not much makes me laugh these days but this did, so thank you. My other half also likes a legging – for his cycling, don’t you know? I can’t fathom why he thinks he looks so good in them. Is it some kind of middle aged man rite of passage?
    Helen @actuallymummy recently posted…Travel: 36 Great places to visit in EnglandMy Profile

  • Right Royal Mother

    Very funny. Our window cleaner tells appalling (APPALLING) jokes and I spend a lot of time avoiding him. Perhaps I should do this next time … v. glad to have read this as, like John, I keep meaning to. Hope you had a very happy Easter and good luck in the awards …

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