On Undies

August 5, 2010

Beside our bed, Aaron and I each have a bedside stand. On top is a lamp, and next to the lamp, our cellphone chargers.
Next to my cellphone charger is a pile of books I admire, intend to read, or have begun to read, but have not yet finished. The pile grows.
Next to Aaron’s cellphone charger is an ever expanding pile of pens. He brings one home from work every night, removes it from his pocket, places it with all the others he has acquired, and returns to work the next day, where I wonder if his first action isn’t to seek out a new pen to occupy his pant’s pocket until he again returns home. Here too, the pile grows.
With in our night stands we keep under things. Aaron’s top drawer is filled with undershirts and tanks, while his bottom drawer holds boxers and briefs. My bottom drawer keeps both undershirts and socks, while my top drawer holds the delicates: the bras and undies.
There is a problem. Bras take up plenty of room, by nature. I have a lean collection, but the few I have deserves a decent percentage of real-estate. Ironically, its not the bras elbowing for room in my top drawer. No, its the undies.
A while ago, before Aaron and the order he brought to my life, I had a problem. An undies problem. I was not particularly fond of laundry, mostly because I had to cash my paycheck into quarters and set up camp for an afternoon of my life in a laundromat. So, I would go weeks without visiting a washer or dryer, allowing my clothing options to dwindle down to the last resorts. During this period of my life, my work situation was such that I often found myself at the mall. And being at the mall, when one’s clothing situation is borderline desperate can lead to poor decisions. Much like grocery shopping when hungry can lead to a pantry full of questionable ingredients.
Inevitably, I would find myself at a select few stores which had seasonal undies sales, and walk out with “6 pairs for $20.” This habit earned me quite a reserve of panties. Which, of course, enabled me to wait even longer between laundromat days. A vicious cycle. (At the time I would have told you I had very little disposable income. I would have been lying.)
I was reminded of all this today while doing laundry, and placing both Aaron’s an my underthings into our respective drawers. I recognized just how many pairs I didn’t like. You see, a byproduct of purchasing seasonal sale undies is that you don’t get first pick. You get the leftovers. The rejects. Your lucky if its your size. There is always the occasional gem…but usually its just slim pickings. As I organized my undies, I put the ones I love on top, followed by the ones I like, followed by those I tolerate, followed by those I hate, followed by the “last resorts.” I shoved my bras back as far as I could and made way for the undies stack. A thought occurred to me: why not throw the bottom half of the stack?
I now have permanent and sole access to both a washer and dryer in my basement. It is rare that I ever have to tap the resources of my “tolerate”, “hate”, “last resorts” undies. My “loves” and “likes” stacks are plenteous enough on their own to meet all my laundry needs.
Why, oh why, then must I keep the shabby remainder?
I don’t have an answer. It is a pack rat mystery. I simply can’t bring myself to toss them out.
And so, here too the pile grows.


2 Responses to “On Undies”

  1. Kathy said

    Toss out the bottom half!!
    Would you like help??
    I give you this advice and realize that I need to work on my 4 closets full of stuff and the noodle room :)

    • Rachel Ward said

      Ha! Well, be comforted, I didn’t make any headway on the undies tossing. I couldn’t bring myself to do it just yet. I need to expand my “love” collection first, before I am willing to chuck a few. I’m hopeless.

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