It
was pointed out to me in a recent conversation with my bride of what
will be fifty years this December, that I needed some new underwear. Now
I’ve got to tell you, I don’t pay much attention to underwear. Don’t
get me wrong. I wear it. I just don’t pay much attention to it. I shower
then I look in the drawer of my dresser and there is, as if by magic,
underwear. You could say, if you are an old timer like me, there are
always drawers in my drawers. But I digress.
The
whole conversation got me to thinking about shopping for underwear. You
see, I don’t think I ever did. I mean I don’t think I ever actually
shopped for underwear. In re-examining my life, I went from a mother to a
first sergeant to a wife. I have never had to actually buy my own
underwear. I wouldn’t know how or where to begin. As a child it was
always just there. When I was in the Army, it was just there. When I
then got a wife, the pattern continued. I don’t know what size my
underwear is. I don’t know what style it is. I just know it is always
there.
Some
of you out there may think this is strange. I don’t. As we live our
lives, we develop patterns. We develop habits. We decide what works for
us. Having a wife who makes my underwear decision just works for me.
Having
said that however, another issue rears its ugly head. What if I had to
buy my own underwear? What if, when I looked into my dresser, there was
no underwear? This is the simple question my ever caring and helpful
wife asks. What if there was suddenly no wife there? On many levels that
is a terrifying thought. What if I had to do my own laundry? What if I
had to make my own bed?
Normally
I would never even consider these minor questions. I save my thought
processes for the big, important problems. I’m all about saving the
world and feeding the hungry and electing Republicans. There is little
time for frivolity such as the mundane matters of laundry and underwear.
I
should consider myself fortunate though, she told me. I have a wife who
is skillful at pointing out, in her sweet little way, my inadequacies.
Like not knowing how to do laundry or how to buy underwear. Had she
never brought it up, I would have continued in my ignorance. Again, a
frightful thought. Well, I’m a person of average intelligence. I feed
myself. How tough could buying underwear be?
So,
I have made a decision. I am going to learn my underwear size. I am
going to find out where it is bought and how much it costs. I am going
to become a world class underwear shopper. I am going to start that task
in just a little while, right after I solve these other little problems
I’m working on like world hunger, world peace, and electing
Republicans.
Ron Scarbro August 15, 2012
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2 comments:
Ah, yes, we did marry special ladies. I do know what size and where to buy underwear, but in our household there is an Ice Tea fairy. When ever I run out to ice tea, I set the empty container on the counter and, magically, it appears sometime later in the refrigerator full and ready to consume. My dirty clothes use to go from the laundry basket to my dresser all clean and folded, but now I find them piled on my side of the bed waiting for me to fold and put a way. It appears the Laundry Fairy has had enough. Great column, love your stuff. Q
As the subsequent gene pool of the underwear fairy and the inadequate shopper of same, I prefer you work on the matter of electing Republicans and if by tragedy you were left adrift and without your panties, I will see that your shortcomings are addressed. PS, please ask Mother to email me your size and brand. Love you
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