So I was folding laundry tonight before getting on the computer. I told myself that I was going to fold all of it, and then reward myself with uninterrupted time farting around on the internet. Usually I will fold, break, fold, break, and so on. But because this past week has been fairly hectic, there was a lot of laundry to fold. I knew myself better than to think I would want to go back to the huge piles that were taunting me with my laziness every time I stepped into my bedroom.
You see, I have no problem doing the laundry, it is the folding that gets me every time. I like clean clothes as much as the next gal, I just don't like to sit there and watch my bed turn into a mini-Manhattan of clothes stacks. And then I still have to put them away, which can be even worse. I am without the services of the much-vaunted Personal Clean Panty Provider, so I am stuck providing them to myself. Also, now that I have an iPod, I refuse to fold without it, and Mr. Personality had somehow tossed my headphones behind the couch. The strike was averted when Hubba-hubba found them, and finally I was ready to go.
Most of the time I catch the laundry in the middle, with at least 2 or 3 loads still waiting to be washed. But today, almost everything was washed and it seemed almost insurmountable. I somehow found a rhythm, and suddenly I noticed that the pile of Hubba-hubba's underwear was extremely large for a pile consisting of just underwear. It seemed like I had folded quite the few pairs, so I went ahead and counted.
Incredulously, I counted 20 pairs of underwear! I wish I could say that I was exaggerating, but sadly, I am not. That is not even including the two pairs I know he has in his gym bag at all times and the ones currently residing on his ass.
So this man who claims to be so spendthrift owns over 20 pairs of underwear! Am I alone in thinking this is a bit excessive? Especially for a guy? I mean, even if you went through two a day (for reasons I wouldn't really want to get into) you would need max 14 pairs. This is assuming laundry was done only once a week, and I can assure you, my friends, that is not the case.
As I was contemplating this rather disturbing fact, little scenarios began flashing in my mind. The way he always mutters under his breath how he needs some new underwear when we go to Costco. He will then disappear and troll down that aisle by himself, apparently to fondle the packages or something, and whisper with longing, "I wish I could take you home with me." After I nagged him for a few weeks, he even recently threw out a few pairs that were exposing just a bit more than allowed by the civil code. I now understand why he had to lock himself in the bathroom for a while after that. It must have been difficult to let go.
There are 12-step programs for everything. Anybody know of one for men who can't stop buying boxer briefs?