The problem with living alone...

... is that when you really need help with something sorta private, you're screwed.

I had to knock on a neighbor's door to ask for help zipping up my dress on Saturday night. I simply couldn't reach it. And I'd forgotten that every other time I've worn this thing (like, in that profile picture!), someone has come to my house before I've gone out in it, so I've had easy assistance with the zippage.

It's the oddest favor I've ever asked a neighbor. The husband was the one who was home, and he laughed, and said he wouldn't tell his wife. I told him he needn't worry, since he was zipping up and not down.

I'm lucky these are people I've known for a looong time. Hell, they've seen me in my PJ's, with bedhead, and they get to enjoy my stylish outfits on laundry day.

Of course, at the end of the night, in my drunken state, I learned I could pull the damned thing over my head, so now I know I don't need zipping help in the future.

Still...