When I got home today, my landlord informed me that the furnace had broken down today and so he’d had to call a furnace repair person to come and fix it. Since I live in the basement, the furnace lives in my kitchen and that meant that they had to enter my apartment to fix it. The thing is, I did laundry yesterday. And when I do laundry, I hang up my delicate clothing to dry. I hang them, for the most part, in my kitchen – on my kitchen chairs. So my kitchen was covered in thigh highs and panties. The repair person was gone before I got home, thank FSM.