It’s an old joke, with a simple punch line.
Underwear.
I’ve talked about underwear before. The pretty ones versus the functional. How it is always a wise decision to heed Mom’s advice and wear nice clean underwear whenever leaving the house (in the event that you may have occasion to be caught with your pants down.) Underwear is important. It is the foundation of all things garment!
So where the hell have all mine gone???
I gathered up my clothes this evening to do my weekly laundry only to discover that despite having worn a clean pair each day this week, I could only find three pair to wash. I searched in places I wouldn’t ordinarily leave my panties—under the bed, in the back of my closet, behind the bathroom door—yes, I even looked to see if they were tangled up in the sheets. But no luck. I didn’t find even one stray pair that had escaped the laundry basket to wander the house alone. So that begs the question…what on earth would be gained by stealing my underwear?
I immediately ruled out my family members as suspects. My deductive reasoning skills are honed enough to know that no one in my house would have cause to wear my panties. First of all, I have two teenage girls in the house, and as much as it pains me to say, they are much smaller than I am in the panty area. They might be inclined to steal from each other, but definitely not from me. My son (even if he would be so inclined…which I’m certain he is not) would not fit into my panties either. Thankfully I am smaller than he is. The same is true of my husband. He would not be able to squeeze into my underwear even if he wanted to. So who would have reason to snatch my undies?
It was late in the evening when I decided to scream the question at the top of my lungs throughout my house. “Has anyone seen my underwear?”
They thought it was a joke.
Once I convinced them it that I wasn’t kidding, the theories started rolling in. The only one that made any sense is that the grandpuppy has stolen them. I have caught him tearing up socks, so it would make sense that he would have branched out to underwear. I’m going to have to set a trap to catch him. My son said I should just keep my door shut. That’s not nearly as fun. And I really do like to get to the bottom of a good mystery. Like a detective. Like Sherlock Holmes. Or Hercule Poirot.
I’ll keep you posted!
Until the next time…I’ll be brushing up on my Agatha Christie!