Of Tongs and Thongs

There are many things that make their way down to our balcony. I go treasure hunting every Saturday morning with my trusty yellow tongs – gum wrappers (grumble), used tissues (urgh!), cigarette butts (ick!), dead leaves, and a schoolbag once. The yellow tongs also assisted in the assasination of basil-devouring snails and slugs. My good yellow for everything.

Pieces of laundry sunning themselves atop my plants are no surprise. Sometimes the owners come by to pick them up and sometimes they use innovative means to fetch their items without telling us.

But last night we got our first piece of racy women’s underwear – it was a smallish piece that landed in the middle of the balcony. It was dark and there was no way the owner could have fished it out on her own without being mistaken for a thief.

So she left a note on our door.

Hi, I am your neighbour living on the XX floor. Due to strong winds, my laundry fell into your balcony. Please call me when you see this note. Thanks. Name & Number.

We poked out heads out to look, and found a small, slinky piece of underwear with tiger prints lying helplessly on the ground. It looked like the fancy something you’d find at Victoria’s Secret.

My impression of the neighbours sure is changing. For something quite private, I’d secure it with a bigger peg, no? Gah, I was NoT picking that up with my fingers.

Out came the yellow tongs, and with the slinky piece (it was still wet!) held between its jaws, we clipped it to the side of the balcony where it’d be easy for anyone to come by and grab that incriminating piece of evidence airing itself like a proud flag on grilles.

We called her but no one picked up. Sensing that she might be cringing with embarrassment and may not want to be recognised, we texted her instead and told her to where to look. True enough, within the half-hour, the slinky flag disappeared.

Now we will never know the owner. Good thing too cos I don’t really want to put a face next to the image of flying slinky. 🙂

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