Underwear, part 2
Blog
kitt decided around 00:27 on 8 June 2005 to publish this:
All of Kris's clothes, except the ones he has on, are now washed, dried, folded, and put away.
All of my clothes are now washed, dried, folded and put away. And I do mean all.
I am standing here naked, amazed how many clothes I have, given I wear only a few at a time, and have gotten rid of so many that I no longer wear.
How can someone who cares so little for clothes have so many? Boggles the mind.
What I don't have enough of, however, is underwear.
Bella has decided the the bestest treat in all the world is my underwear. As in, my dirty underwear.
As in, "Ew!"
At one point, reminiscent of my brother's underwear tale of woe I was down to 4 pairs of underwear, because Bella had chewed through all my other pairs. Four panties. That's one, two, three, four. Four.
I made Kris buy me new ones. Like forty pairs of new ones. Four. Tee.
I could go weeks without doing laundry. Didn't have to. Not only did I have clean underwear, but I had clean underwear to spare.
But not now.
Now I can't friggen find half of them because that dog, that dog, has somehow figured out how to retrieve underwear from the really tall hamper and she still continues to chomp on them.
So, now I'm standing here naked, counting my remaining underwear, and realizing it's time to go shopping again.
I'm down to eight.
Dog.
All of Kris's clothes, except the ones he has on, are now washed, dried, folded, and put away.
All of my clothes are now washed, dried, folded and put away. And I do mean all.
I am standing here naked, amazed how many clothes I have, given I wear only a few at a time, and have gotten rid of so many that I no longer wear.
How can someone who cares so little for clothes have so many? Boggles the mind.
What I don't have enough of, however, is underwear.
Bella has decided the the bestest treat in all the world is my underwear. As in, my dirty underwear.
As in, "Ew!"
At one point, reminiscent of my brother's underwear tale of woe I was down to 4 pairs of underwear, because Bella had chewed through all my other pairs. Four panties. That's one, two, three, four. Four.
I made Kris buy me new ones. Like forty pairs of new ones. Four. Tee.
I could go weeks without doing laundry. Didn't have to. Not only did I have clean underwear, but I had clean underwear to spare.
But not now.
Now I can't friggen find half of them because that dog, that dog, has somehow figured out how to retrieve underwear from the really tall hamper and she still continues to chomp on them.
So, now I'm standing here naked, counting my remaining underwear, and realizing it's time to go shopping again.
I'm down to eight.
Dog.