May 12, 2006
My husband asked me to find him a washed pair of underwear downstairs. All I could find was a pair that had seen better days. The waistband was torn and basically useless, but hey, they were clean.
He put them on and asked me if I had a safety pin. Hello? Do I look like a seamstress? Pffft. No.
He leaves to go drop off some quotes and also to take his business cards door to door, which requires walking. Walking.
I get a phone call.
Hubby: Hi. Ya, that pair of underwear you gave me, well they suck.
Hubby: Ya, oh. I walked about 10 feet from the van, along the sidewalk and before I knew it, my underwear were hanging down around my knees.
Me: Hysterically laughing now.
Me: That’s funny.
Hubby: Hahahahahaaha. Ya, no it’s not. Do you know how uncomfortable that is?
Me: Well I suppose I could imagine. More laughter erupts from me. I’m trying to feel compassion here, I really am.
Hubby: Lemme tell ya, it ain’t fun. I had to walk back to the van, well more like waddle, and decide what I was going to do.
Me: Don’t keep me in suspense.
Hubby: Well I couldn’t very well take my pants off in the van in plain view. I could be arrested for lewd conduct or some such thing.
Me: Now that would be funny.
Hubby: Right. Anyway, I happen to have a pair of scissors in the van, so I undid my pants and cut my underwear on either side and then pulled them up and out of my jeans. Really nice.
Me: Maybe you should invest in new underwear.
Hubby: Ya. Thanks.