Wednesday morning I was herding the boys, trying to leave the hotel room and get to school. Liam, putting on his shoes between the two beds, said, "Hey, Mom! What's this? I want it!" Frazzled, I acquiesced and had a look. It was a black bra. Not mine. Stuck under the leg of the bed. "No you can't have that! It's not mine!" Thinking he had really hit a jackpot, "What is it? I want it! Finder's keepers, ya know, Mom!" Bent over laughing, I told him not to touch it and to get shoes on and get out the door. My response to the surreal is apparently belly laughing. I scooted the boys out of the room and stopped at the front desk. Speaking in shorthand to the woman at the front desk, I conveyed what needed to happen. "My son found a black bra under the bed. Not mine. Stuck under the leg. He's playing 'finder's keepers.' There are clothes all over the room, but that is not mine. It needs to disappear before I get back." She was mortified. "I'm so sorry." Across the lobby I said, "Maybe you can think about something you can give me in return for what you take out of the room today." The response, "We will come up with something."
After school I returned with the boys to pick up the laundry and go to the laundromat. I subtley peeked under the bed. It was gone. I snatched all the dirty laundry and opened the suitcase (aka: dirty clothes hamper) to add these last bits. And there it was. Neatly folded... the black bra. Still not mine.
What got lost in translation? "The woman in room 123 can't get her bra out from under the bed" v.s. "The woman in room 123 wants the bra that's not hers out from under the bed." Knowing there was a seeker in the room playing finders keepers, I whisked it out of the suitcase, opened the door, and threw it into the hallway. There are housekeeping carts right outside my door. Someone will now get the message.
A half hour later, Will opened the door as I wheeled the suitcase right behind him. "Mom, why is there a black bra out here?" "I... I threw it out here because it's not mine and..." Hells bells. I threw it out into the hallway. Do the housekeepers think I'm in a rage because I found a bra in the room, not mine, and slung it out because my husband is having an affair? (He's not... read this clearly... it's what I thought the housekeeping staff thought...) I grabbed a plastic bag, picked the black bra up again and delivered it to the front desk. Different woman at the front desk. I shorthanded her the story. She too is equally as mortified as the first woman.
The only ones I cannot explain the situation to is the housekeeping staff. There I am with two little boys, throwing another woman's black bra out the door. I am left wondering how they are telling the story.
God forbid, I hope I didn't grab the hotel laundering bag to get rid of the thing. It may come back neatly folded... and clean.
(Want to read more about my "finder's keepers" guy? Liam's Forever Family Day 2012.)