Fashionable? I'll settle for presentable

The other day, I caught a neighbor who thought she might sneak the mail from her mailbox without anyone noticing. But, I was walking down the street at just the moment she opened her front door and took a single step out of it, to reach into her mailbox. And there she was -- for all to see, well, actually just me -- in a big yellow T-shirt and her panties, and nothing else.
She didn't notice ME, thankfully, and ducked quickly back in her door. And I thought, "Thank heaven, I'm not the only one."
There are days when you plan to shower and do your hair, get dressed nicely, and go out for the day, but ... the leaves need to be raked, the floors need to be scrubbed, the bathroom needs to be cleaned, the wash needs to be done. So, realistically -- am I really going to shower and set my hair and THEN clean the toilets? Ha. Ha. Ha.
Anyone with a set of binoculars and the desire to see a person with the fashion sense of Michael Moore pushing a vacuum or scouring a sink, would have a field day with me. First of all, when I awaken, I grab a pair of sweat pants and a baggy T-shirt.
If I awaken and wander to the dining room window to see the sunrise, as I did this morning, I may see the leaves 5 inches deep in the back yard. This is more than a girl stamped with a Puritan Work Ethic can bear.
Footwear forthe occasion
The next thing you know, I'm putting on my leaf shoes (the tennies I retired from daily service years ago) and a stained, gray sweat shirt. The hood goes over my hair, which later will be perfectly coifed, but for now, looks like spaghetti and Crisco.
The dog goes with me because he doesn't know enough to be embarrassed, and we spend the next hour in the back yard, hidden behind a fence. Of course, anyone looking out a second story window would see me, but I pretend that would never happen ... much as the woman who got her mail in her underwear pretended it would never happen.
Unfortunately, this lack of decorum can follow me through the day if I have lots of disgusting chores to contend with. I have been known to roam around dusting, swabbing, and scrubbing until I heard the squeal of a school bus. Little did the kids know I was hopping into the shower only because their arrival was imminent.
This was more to prove that I had not sat around all day in my sweats eating bon bons and watching "Judge Joe" and "Divorce Court," than to let my children catch me looking like a bum. The truth is, the children expect my morning appearance to be, uh, casual.
Aunt Ethel commitscrimes of fashion
When Hannah was younger, pre-driver's license age, and she asked for a ride to school, I would query, "Is it OK if Aunt Ethel takes you?" This was code for, "I'll take you, but I'm not getting all dressed up first."
Aunt Ethel was my alter ego -- a woman so bereft of fashion sense that she didn't put in her contact lenses, shoved a ball cap or knit cap over her hair, wore purple sweat pants and a ski jacket, and stuck her hand in front of her profile whenever another car passed.
"Sure, Aunt Ethel can take me."
I have, in fact, a long history of appearing in ways I'd rather not have anyone see. When my husband, John, and I lived in Arizona, our son, Josh, was 2, and Hannah wasn't conceived, or conceived of, yet, our fenced yard hid a multitude of sins.
July in Arizona is known for its monsoons, when enormous thunderstorms blow in with only a moment's notice. This had ominous portent for a family that owned a Jeep CJ-5, the top of which was often removed.
On more than one occasion, I can recall scampering nude into the back yard to cover that doggone jeep. The lightning lit the sky, but the fence hid our secret as we took a shower in the great out of doors. And the good thing about Arizona was that everyone lived in a one-story ranch style house.
So, when I see a neighbor retrieving her mail in an outfit I KNOW she doesn't want anyone to see, I -- who have run from the upstairs to the basement, past a picture window, in a hair net and nothing else -- can empathize.
murphy@vindy.com