Eh tu, one thinger?

Last week, I misplaced one of the handsets for our phone. It was the one from the bedroom, which I'm sure I grabbed quickly while making the bed/folding laundry/looking at naked pictures of Angelina Jolie, whatever. I grabbed and walked somewhere in the house and set it down. I could not find it any where.

I looked high and low. I looked all the usual places that the one thinger likes to hide things, but still no handset. This particular phone was set on quiet since it is for our bedroom so paging it was worthless.

Finally I gave up. I told the hubby it was time for a new phone group anyway, so why not investigate some of the finer models at our local Sam's Club bulk-till-you-puke extravaganza.

Friday, when I was chatting yet again while doing random tasks, I pulled open my panty drawer to find the perfect pair and low and behold, that fucking handset.

I have become a one thinger. I have no words for my shame...

Decisions

So what kind of panties does one wear to have their liver skewered? Seems like one obvious choice, doesn't it?

Panty lines

I am a creature of habit. I know what I like and that's the way I like to roll. For example, I like Dr. Pepper. I don't want the knock-off brand, Coke stinks, Pepsi is shit and the diet DOES NOT taste the same. And I've liked it for as long as I can remember.

The problem with this quirk in my personality is that I often start bad habits and can't break the cycle -- especially if it's something I really, really want, such as Dr. Pepper.

I recently started a bad habit at the pool. After we're done swimming, I peel off the bottom half of my swimsuit and put on pants -- sometimes with panties, usually without. We're just driving home! And the ball of fire gets to ride home free style. Now, there is a purpose to this. Since we spend most of the time in the kiddie pool, it's usually just the bottom of my two-piece that's wet. And if we take the wet bottoms off, we don't get cold in the air conditioning on the way home. See? It's all sensible.

Yesterday, we needed something from the store, so ball of fire had to wear his pants in, but I followed my usual routine.

We walked into the grocery store, picked our cart and started at a rapid pace through the produce section. Suddenly, the ball of fire yells, "Red LIGHT!"

"What? What is it?" I asked.

"Mommy, we have to go home!"

"Why, what's the matter?"

With a dead straight face, he pointed at me and replied, "YOU are not wearing UNDIES!"

Oh.Good.God.