Sometime between going to bed at 12 am and waking at 6 this morning, my panties gave out. No really. They up and died. They used to be microfiber hiphugging jobbies that shrunk after a washing into what looked like Carters underwear for children. Carter's brand slogan just happens to be: 'if they could just stay little for a little while longer.'
"Little' no kidding. This tiny pair fit last night, but this morning . . . I could pull them up over my head and still have coverage in all the imporant places. Gramma's bloomers from her large days were smaller, and sorry Gramma, but that's saying a lot.
So goodbye sad, limp and shapeless skivvies. You always made me feel supported and protected, from begining to . . . end. I'm sorry your demise was so sudden and soon soon.
Ummmmmm . . . .
. . . . amen??
Geez I dont know how to end this. I've never stood over a dead pair of panties in a waste basket before.
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3 comments:
The Monkey gave a eulogy for a little tree in front of our house that blew over (and by "blew over" I mean "snapped in two") during this weekend's storms. I'm betting he could give you some tips on saying a "brief" farewell...
...although, on second thought, you'd probably be required to sob and wretch while proclaiming how they were your FAVORITE panties and how you'd miss them EVERY DAY...and then take a picture of them so you could remember them always.
On second thought, maybe we don't want the Monkey giving you advice.
Sob? AND wretch?
How about professional mourners - would the Monkey approve?
P.S. Are donations to the Monkey's favorite charity being accepted in tree's name?
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