Picture it:  The Fourth of July, 2008.  A beautiful day, I decided to wear one of my favorite “kick-about” outfits, a strapless number I bought at Target in Florida last summer.  I did some yard work, and after the kids got picked up for their camping trip, threw on a sleeveless white button down top to wear out on errands.

My first stop was at Kwik Trip.  I got out of the car, pumped gas, went in, putzed around and browsed through their surprising selection of junk food, soda and candy, and then made my way to the Nectar of the Gods station.  (Coffee, of course.  Hawaiian Chocolate Macadamia Nut, to be exact.  Ahhhh…) As I pumped the lifeblood into my Karuba mug (CHEAP REFILLS!) I saw a clerk walk behind the station and I saw him glance at me.  I noticed his eyes lingered for a moment below my neckline, and he abruptly walked away. I looked down and WHOA, NELLY – my dress was below the bustline, and I do mean BELOW.

Fireworks went off in my  head as I tried to maintain calm, although I think I actually let out an exclamation.  I fixed the order of things, just in time to see the aforementioned clerk summon a female employee into the back room, where I heard an explosive burst of laughter.

Imagine the delight of the poor people who had to work this national holiday, as they undoubtedly gathered around the surveillance tape at shift change.

“And how many did stare?

Laugh bombs bursting in air…

Made me think of the night

that my top was still there…”