When you’re a wife, you assume certain responsibilities that you never realized were so important. Yes, for certain wives, these responsibilities may mean cleaning or decorating all in the midst of having a career and making sure that you haven’t become the most boring person on the planet. You make sure you still wear heels, put on makeup, and toss your hair and giggle when he least expects it…just to make sure that he’s still attracted to you. One of the other responsibilities one assumes is what I call basic maintenance. Now, you may not have noticed the “basic maintenance” issue when you were dating because when you date (even if you’re living together), these things are not your problem. What is basic maintenance you ask? Underwear and socks, my friend. Along with going to the doctor and making sure there’s milk in the fridge, basic maintenance is something a lot of guys are not good at. When sorting laundry the other night, I began to wonder how my husband survived before me. Each sock was stiff, crusty and had assumed an unnatural shade of gray. As I picked the last sock up gingerly and dropped it in the washing machine (hoping that it would get sucked into the “lost sock” vortex never to be seen again), I saw a pair of underwear that looked as if they had been in a five car collision on the 405 freeway. This underwear had holes…giant holes…there was one I could stick my hand through, one that looked as if a mouse had been nibbling on it and another large enough to make the briefs into a hat. Mike walked into the room and spotted my discovery. “You can’t wear these anymore,” I said. He started laughing so hard that he could barely breathe. “Why not?” he managed to say between heaves of laughter. “Why not? Because Mickey Mouse could fit his ears in them.” Mike snatched the underwear from me. “You just don’t know how special this underwear is.” And even though he was kidding, I know that deep down, they were his favorites. I knew that each time he put them on, he felt an ironic sense of satisfaction…like eating candy out of the tubs at the market. He then lifted them up and tore the sides off, stepping into the now stringy piece of elastic and placed the remaining piece of fabric over his crotch. “We can’t get rid of these. They make a great loincloth.” And with that, he exited the laundry room.
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