It was pointed out to me in a recent conversation with my bride of what will be 50 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 those 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
