My mom always folded our underwear. I suppose she did it because my grandmother always folded her underwear. Naturally, when I moved out on my own, I carried on the folding tradition. It’s funny how these mindless traditions carry on from generation to generation without being questioned. I never gave it a second thought until one day, one husband and 2 children later...
I remember it well – I had a basket of unmentionables spread out on the bed and mid-fold a voice screamed in my head “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? Life is TOO SHORT for this!” I snapped!!
Right then and there I snatched up that underwear and waved it over my head as I shouted, “I refuse to fold underwear!” “I want my life back!!” “I DECLARE that from this day forward and forevermore all underwear in this home will be tossed into drawers without any special attention being paid to it!”
It was exhilarating! I felt like Martin Luther nailing the 95 thesis to the door of the church. This was the day of my reformation!
Everyone in the family did not take as kindly to my declaration. A look of horror passed over John’s face and then deep sadness. To this day I swear I saw a tear form in his eye. He was horrified and implored me to reconsider. I refused. I had declared independence from tyrannical panties and there would be no turning back!
As with most “give me liberty or give me death” speeches, the years have a way of softening your heart. At the suggestion of some Christian “How to be a better wife” book I pried the nailed panties off of our door and began to fold John’s underwear again. It’s my sacrifice of love and I love doing it for him.
As for the rest of my family - I remain resolutely liberated from panty duty. Wait – that sounded much better in my head…