Most lunchtimes I go out for a walk beside the lake. For some months now there has been a pair of grey underpants (size and gender not determined; I haven't been carrying a stick to poke them with) lying beneath a weepin' willow just past Commonwealth Avenue bridge.
On Saturday afternoon on our way to the National Library I noticed that a car was parked beside the tree. I said to Adrienne, "Looks like they've come to collect their undies".
And, lo and behold!, yesterday the underpants had gone.
I love a happy ending.
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