How kind of you to leave me a piece of paper letting me know you have gone through my checked luggage. I can save you the cost of that flyer, however, because each time I open my carefully and thoughtfully packed suitcase it looks like a g-ddamned gorilla has jumped in and raped it. So, yes, I KNOW YOU HAVE BEEN IN THERE.
This is very simple. My clothes are on the top half, my laptop is on the bottom. LEAVE IT LIKE THAT. I have to wear those clothes the next day and I’ll thank you to not crunch them up so that I look like I’ve spent all night in the local bar and slept in them.
And? I know how I packed my panties. And because of where they have ended up I ALSO know that you have touched them in some way, you sick fucks. Am I now going to have to start packing my panties in my carry on purse like some 20-something in a committed-relationship-but-not-really-committed-enough-to-have-a-drawer to keep your pervy hands off of them?
JUST STOP IT.
Love, glitter and unicorns,