I was already in the bed last night when K got undressed.
As usual, he took his underwear off and eyed the spinning ceiling fan.
He was going to practice the shot, trying yet again to get his underwear to spin around on the fan blades and fly off right into the hamper.
He eyed the fan, changed position and eyed the fan again.
He balled up the underwear, hesitated and then tossed them up into the turning fan blades.
There was a fabric-y swishing noise and then... nothing.
The underwear seemed to have disappeared completely.
K turned the fan off and waited for it to slow down.
Only then did we see that the underwear had attached itself to the fan in such a way that it looked like one of the blades was wearing briefs.
K stood on the bed, untangled his underwear and then placed it gently across a single blade.
"I'll see if this works," he said, jumping down and turning the fan back on.
The blades picked up speed and my husbands dirty underwear flew off and...
...smacked me right in the face.
K though that was effing hilarious and gave himself extra points.
Oh. The. Joys.