Caught Red-Handed, or The Handkerchief in My Pocket

Caught Red Handed 

Forty years ago, everyone in our building would hang their laundry to dry on clotheslines extending from the stacked balconies of our building. One windy autumn day I spotted a woman’s red pair of underpants that had fallen to the ground below. Sure that it belonged to my newlywed, I put in my coat pocket to take upstairs. But I had a lot on my mind and soon forgot.

Several months passed. We were on our way out of the apartment, I had to sneeze and felt around in my pocket for my trusted handkerchief. I pulled it out to blow my nose, but instead of a handkerchief I was standing there, holding the red underwear. From the astonished look on my wife’s face it was clear that it wasn’t hers.

Today this story remains an amusing vignette from the early days of our marriage. But back then? All I can say is that I was under surveillance for quite some time.