The Stripper

I'm always running late or in a hurry to be someplace at a certain time. My head is stuck in the clouds or my mind is overflowing with mush. Sometimes - I'm just out there - it's like being in the twilight zone on Excedrin PM.
So tonight was no different from my usual nights - running late. I slip on a t-shirt and run out the door. Something feels weird. My shirt doesn't seem to fit right. I start to back out of the driveway and I look down and I have my shirt on inside out and backwards.
I don't have time to run back in the house and do a quick change. I decide to change the shirt right there in the car ( yes, I was still driving) and proceed on my way. I was hoping that the neighbors weren't watching.
The shirt gets stuck on my head and then got caught in the steering wheel. Right foot - hits the brake. I reach for the gear shift and become tangled even more in my shirt. I manage to get the shifter in park. Now, the seat belt is in the way. I fumble for the release button and hit the jackpot but also at the same time I somehow open the car door and out I go rolling into the street.
Finally after a difficult struggle I rip off the t-shirt and look into the face of the nosy neighbor. I'm a little embarrassed standing in the middle of the street in my bra with my t-shirt hanging limply from my right hand. Quickly I slip my shirt back on, jump in the car and drive away. The neighbor stands in the middle of the street with his mouth in the open (what the hell's going on) position shaking his head.
Just another day in the neighborhood - not quite like Mr. Rodgers neighborhood.