It's Happened Again

Since my loved ones frequently enjoy a good laugh at my expense, I might as well toss a snicker-worthy tidbit your way.

I told you that we went to visit Lorna and Dave on the weekend, and I told you that it was cold out, but that we still bundled up and went for a walk. I think I even told you that I wore long johns.

What I didn't tell you is that I left them (the lj's) behind. I can try to tell you that it was an act of kindness to help keep Dave or Lorna warm, but they have their own warmer-thingies, and probably only want to handle mine while wearing those hand-c0nd0m-latex-thingies.

I didn't tell you this in the previous post. I didn't tell you because I didn't know. But after I received a very funny ransom note from Lorna, I did know. Apparently, Lorna has joined the throngs who enjoy a chuckle over AC's absentmindedness.

Of course, my kin were kind enough to remind me of the time that I left a goodly number of apparel-ish items at a hotel after a conference. There was a suit, which I sort of remembered when they brought it up, but they also claimed that there was underwear and socks and such. The suit had been left hanging in the cupboard, but Cuppa says that the other items were found on the floor behind a chair.

But you know, I cannot be held totally responsible for that particular breakdown. It all began when four male teachers were booked into one hotel room with two beds. Pity AC, who could picture himself hugging his bedmate (so to speak) in his sleep, and therefore decided that his best bet was to sleep on the floor. Fortunately, he manage that because he was still young of body as this happened quite a long time ago.

Come the next night, another room was made available when several speakers who had finished their presentations went home early. Of course, this only happened at bedtime, so I grabbed what things I could think of and scurried off to my new digs. Of course, I never thought to go back to the old room and looking around before checking out the next day. I really think that under the circumstances such a tiny oversight is quite understandable.

So, really: leaving my underwear behind only twice in more than six decades really isn't so bad. Please tell me that you agree.

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PS: We'll soon be off to cottage country and abysmal internet service for a few days. I would be surprised if I am able to post or even read your posts for awhile.

My Personal Womb Tracker

... and/or Male Pattern Blindness

Let's face it, most men suffer from a genetic weakness, more than one, I'm sure, but let me give my gender the benefit of the doubt for now. My BIL calls the particular and most unfortunate syndrome to which I am referring as Male Pattern Blindness. We all too frequently unable to see what is right in front of our eyes, and pity help us if the object of a search might actually be under something.

A long time ago Roseanne Barr did a stand up routine about men always asking women where such and such might be: "What do they think a womb is, a tracking device?" It applies in our family too as well as just about every other that I know of, so long ago, I began to call Cuppa Womb Tracker whenever I needed to avail myself of that special finding-talent of hers and seemingly of all of the fairer sex.

Somehow, I lost two pairs on underwear several weeks ago. Well, we have bags of clothes going back and forth with us daily to our babysitting gig on the other side of town because, sometimes, we either change or shower or do both over there. It's been so humid here this summer that I invariably return drenched with sweat from my morning walk with Nikki Dee. It's not particularly caused by the heat this relatively cool summer but the humidity. When it hasn't been raining, it's been threatening to downpour, so the humidity has been high almost every day. On most mornings, because the actual air temperature is not terribly high, it seems cool enough when I begin my walk, but, invariably, I am soaked in perspiration by the time the walk is done.

That's one reason why I generally take a change of clothes with me — in case I require a shower after our morning ambulations. And I expected my two missing small clothes to soon appear in the clothes bag as I scrounged about in there. However, after a week and then another, it became apparent that I had a genuine stumper on my hands: the mystery of the missing briefs.

This morning, as I puzzled aloud yet again over this enigma, Cuppa suggested that I check my T-shirt drawer, for I might have mistaken undie cloth for T-shirt cloth if both were in a pile. I then did something that I should have learned never to do by now — offhandedly dismissed my lady's suggestion. I mean to say that I've been putting my briefs in that drawer for donkeys' years now without miscue. In fact, I had just shoved many a freshly laundered pair of Tees in there and seen no small things. Of course, I hadn't been looking; nevertheless ...

Fortunately, I decided to humour her ladyship and at the same time demonstrate to her that I, Moi, couldn't have possibly done such a thing. However, just as I was closing the drawer to inform her that of course I was right for they were not there, uh oh, what did I see? Something just a little different than T-shirt material? "Oh wait a minute dear. Um ... yes, I seem to have found those tricksy little things."

Chalk another one up to Womb Tracker. How do you ladies do that?