I’ve somehow managed to go about 3 weeks without doing laundry. I was super overloaded with work, then I was super overloaded with vacation, then I was super overloaded with “crap, there’s no detergent and I am too lazy to go buy some.” Had enough clothes, considering a week of those three was spent in Florida running around half naked. However, there’s always the underwear conundrum.
It’s wonderful, that blissful period of time right after doing laundry when pretty much every item you own is clean. So many possibilities of things that you can slap on your body at any given time! And I am always excited when I have a giant pile of clean underwear. I usually start with whatever’s new and comfortable and vaguely exciting – at the moment, my preferred underwear is a tie between a fabulous rainbow pair from Old Navy, and some polka dot pair I got half off from some department store or another (tacky is how I roll). And for the next week or so, it’s an easy progression from there. But at some point, the really good underwear runs out. I start working my way through the pairs that are a bit frayed, and the pairs that only work with some pants, but not others. After that comes the poochy underwear. At some point in the past few years, I dropped a pants sizes or two, and as a result I’ve got underwear a size bigger that they really should be. Can’t make myself throw them away, as they’re perfectly acceptable, but nonetheless they’re definitely further down the line when it comes to things that are comfortable. Then, after those are gone, comes the “stupid underwear that I bought off the discount rack that kinda fits but not really.” I pretend they fit, so I don’t feel bad having blown dollars on underwear that doesn’t fit me. And after that comes the “sexy underwear that really shouldn’t be worn except for sexy time.” You know, all good and well during sexy time, but not so much for the rest of the day. And then comes the “sexy underwear that shouldn’t even be worn during sexy time because it’s so frikking uncomfortable.” I usually don’t ever hit that point. When I’m being good about laundry, I’ll usually not get past the “size too large” stage. But I totally slid this time, slid waaay too far. All I’ve got left are bizarre chunks of fabric with strings hanging off in mysterious places, chunks of fabric that masquerade as underwear but aren’t really underwear, just torture devices for when I get lazy and don’t do laundry.
In any case, I did my laundry. It’s sitting there staring at me, wondering why I’m typing this post rather than putting it away.