I packed my grown-up stuff wrong

Over the years, I amassed a decent collection of… Adult toys. They’re fun like prizes inside cereal boxes without the torture of slogging through a pound of wheat. They come in such pretty colors and fun shapes.

When it was time to move into my first apartment as a single mom, it scared me to death that the box containing the toys would be mixed up with another box, then accidentally opened by a family member helping us unpack. And you just can’t mark the box “SEX TOYS.” Even “KEEP OUT” arouses too much suspicion.

So I carefully packed my stash inside my black suitcase. It was the perfect setup! It stood out from all the other boxes, but was completely inconspicuous, AND was lockable. It seemed like a great idea at the time!

Finally, I picked up the keys to my new place. My dad offered to accompany me in taking a celebratory, inaugural load of stuff. What a nice gesture! I accepted. We packed his SUV with the necessities, including my black suitcase. Why not complete the transfer of the suitcase in this quiet pause before the chaos of moving day?

En route to the apartment, I began to wonder if I was hearing an extra noise coming from the back of his SUV. Usually, the road noise and conversation drowned out the suspicious little drone. Dad parked the car, so I walked around to the back to unpack the trunk. There is that noise again. I looked at the suitcase. Then it hit me.

Something in that suitcase is vibrating.

I grabbed the suitcase and made my way as quickly to the front door as possible while still appearing nonchalant. Key goes in, I’m in quiet panic mode trying to figure out how to keep my dad from noticing the now definite buzz coming from my suitcase. I scurry into the bedroom.

I need to shut it off before he comes in. Then I realize –

I don’t have the key.

In a red-faced flash I stowed the suitcase in the closet and slid the closet door shut just as Dad walked by. The swish of the sliding door muffled the sound, but the acoustics of the closet only made it louder. While Dad was outside grabbing the next boxes, I frantically tested the best hiding place for the rogue vibrator in the freaking suitcase. The solution turned out to be to put it in the middle of the room, on the floor, then shut the bedroom door and tell Dad all the other boxes belonged in the kitchen.

Let this be a public service announcement to you all. Take the batteries out first.


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