I Get Trapped Downstairs

Here's something that may have happened to you before. Or to put it another way, here's something that definitely hasn't happened to you before because you aren't doomed to forever be dropped into strange situations through no fault of your own like I am.

I had just gotten back from going for a run. It had been a fairly long run and I was now sweaty. I had also been doing laundry the whole afternoon. Are you with me so far? So I had done most of the laundry downstairs and put it in our bedroom, which is upstairs. I only had one load left to wash. Since I was in sweaty clothes, I took my clothes off and put them in the washing machine with the rest of the last load. I am now naked. I pause for a while and bask in my nakedness. I laugh at myself ("HAHA, you're naked!"). Then, after basking and laughing at myself naked for a while, I begin to go upstairs to get some clothes on. This is where things take a wrong turn.

I notice silhouettes at the door. They ring the doorbell. I shriek like a girl and sprint back downstairs to hide. I whack my knee against the doorway really hard. I do not notice this until much later. I sneak back to the doorway and peek up the stairs. The silhouettes catch me in this cowardly act. They see my face and my arm. With renewed vigor, they begin to pound on my door. I realize I have no clothes downstairs and the only way to get clothes is to go up the stairs and pass right by them. This is not an option! I am trapped naked in the lower level of my own house. Minutes pass. I am sitting on a tile floor in the downstairs entryway. I am cold. I have also noticed that my knee hurts horribly. I am not certain why. I stand up and peek around the corner again. The silhouettes are gone. I breathe a sigh of relief and begin to walk up the stairs. Then another silhouette comes to the door. AAAH!! I scream again and run back down the stairs. This person has definitely seen me, possibly my butt too. He knocks again. I contemplate putting on a big coat and going to the door. I decide I would look like a child molester if I did this. I do nothing. I am still cold. After a few minutes I peek up the stairs again. The person is gone. I realize there is a large basket of clothes sitting like 2 feet away from me full of my sweatpants and shirts. I kick the basket as hard as I can. I then yell a swear word that rhymes with "sacrifice bunt." Then, as calmly as possible, I walk upstairs and get dressed.

The only moral of this story that I can think of is this: Never be naked. Ever.