I’m back!!! Before we jump into my first blog post in an age, I wanted to take an opportunity to tell you all how much I missed you. Thanks for staying with me on the bumpy ride.
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When I was young, I used to look forward to the day when I had it “all figured out.” The day when all the ignorance and mistakes of youth would fade away replaced by the knowledge and wisdom of maturity.
And there are moments in my life when I complete a thing, offer a solution or write a sentence that adds to the collective conversation that make me stand back and ponder how all growed up I am now. I don’t just have it together, I am the very definition of together.
And then all my egoic beliefs come crashing down in a fiery inferno by something so unbelievably insignificant…
Like underwear.
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Lately, my frequency of laundry days has been revealing to me that it is really time to invest in some new underwear. It has started with upping the frequency, but not volume of my laundry days, but has devolved into a sordid underwear journey occurring in stages.
Stage 1: My number of underwear prompts me to do laundry more often. This is the stage where a really mature person would immediately go out and buy more underwear. I am sure you can guess what I did at this point which is nothing or else this would be the end of an anticlimactic story. I really wish that was the case.
Stage 2: I am forced to wear the non-favorite pairs of underwear…the ones with holes or elastics that have become a decorative ribbon or fringe. At this stage, I feel the twinge that they need to be replaced and make a note to myself that this needs to be done, but once the hole/fringe settles into place, I quickly forget there is a problem and go about my day.
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It’s here that I will interrupt my stages to allow you to understand the situation a little further. I love the idea of supporting local. I desire to buy all my items from local vendors. The fact that so many local vendors are closing shop should tell you that I like many others travel the path to hell with our good intentions. Still, every time I need something I delay until I have time to shop local. Again, another indication of my inability to adult…a refusal to accept my time constraints.
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Stage 3: I am forced to resort to those pairs of undies that even a medical professional would look askance at and be like “really?” The ones which have the appearance of underwear, but by the end of the day turn into a belt supporting your posterior cheeks. These are the pairs that your grandmother would be ashamed of you possessing. As you are moving through your day with said butt belt, this is where most procrastinators would be forced to take action…most…but I play for the major league of procrastinators which finds me at stage 4.
Stage 4: The thong.
Exhausting all underwear resources, I am forced to grab that sexy, lacy red number that your mother in a pique of too much Christmas cheer decided she would buy you for a gift which brings to me to another truth bomb…your mother should really not be buying your underwear, especially thongs, for any holiday except April Fool’s Day.
Far from feeling sexy, being a middle-aged woman, it has the effect of making me feel like I lost a bet. I am uncomfortable. I share this information with my husband and daughter. My husband’s eyes light up until I share with him that I am so intertwined with this piece of material that if I cough I will gag on lace. His admiration turns to disgust, but my daughter laughs. She gets it.
Finally in the car waiting for one of my young adults at an appointment for a sick guinea pig, I am so itchy that I open the webpage of a large conglomerate and order six pairs of the first set that look comfortable. I abandon all my values because of a piece of lace. Bet I’m not the first person to have had that experience.
I feel low. Real adults do not purchase basic necessities like this. Real adults would have assessed their underwear situation at or before stage 1 and purchased the appropriate number of undergarments required.
In less than six hours (amazing!!!), my new underpants arrive, and my thong gets sling shot into the laundry basket. The new pairs of underwear fit, and I audibly express my contentment as everything becomes right with the world.
My ego is still very bruised, but I will have an opportunity to make it right. My bra underwire just gave me a poke. I will do the right thing and go to a local store and buy some new ones.
Right after I watch this funny video.
Being an adult is like folding a fitted sheet. - Unknown
Something That Grabbed My Attention This Week
The Story of Nibi, The Beaver - I have been a long time follower of the Newhouse Wildlife Rescue. The owner reminds me of a past rescue I was involved with where the rescue speaks with candor and honesty about the good and the bad that happens in wildlife rescue. It is with horror that I read the story on Facebook and watched the video by Jane at Newhouse about the order by Massachusetts Department of Fisheries and Wildlife to release Nibi who had been with the organization for two years as a newborn back into the wild after Newhouse had applied for an educational permit for Nibi. With no survival skills as beavers need to be raised with other kits to develop those skills, this little beaver’s fate looked grim.
Enter the power of the people. The rescue’s large following got angry and got busy. With skepticism I signed the petition to save Nibi (do those things really work?), but apparently they do if enough people not only sign, but make their voices heard. It left me from feeling hopeless to hopeful about our world.
I am enclosing three links for this story. The best link though is to see the unfolding of the story on Newhouse’s Facebook page. Read the comments if you want to see how this movement gained its momentum and how beloved Nibi is.
“Diva” Beaver, Beloved Since Birth Allowed To Stay At US Rescue Centre - CBC News
Nibi The Beaver To Stay at Rescue Center - Today’s Show
Facebook - Newhouse Wildlife Rescue - Start from post on September 30, 2024.