Underwear and Outerwear

As I have recently shared, my mother, Field Marshall Von Emeline, gave me lots of advice. Most of it I ignored, but one pearl rings true every day in my brain. It was something about always wearing clean underwear in case I was hit by a truck or in a horrific accident and the emergency room people would have to cut off my BVDs. So, each morning, like clockwork, clean underwear. Good advice, and thankfully, so far, no ER personnel has been subjected to my clean BVDs.

But today’s blog is not about underwear, it’s more about outerwear. Two of my friends--sisters--recently were tasked with cleaning their ninety-plus-year-old grandmother’s house when she was headed to an assisted living facility. It’s not something anyone wishes to do, but we will all be subjected to that unfortunate task at some time or another.

They dutifully rooted through her house, making three piles: keep, thrift store or who-in-the-world-wants-this, also called the trash heap. Three hours into their task, they arrived at the bedroom vanity, you know the old-fashioned type where women stashed their cosmetics and primped and preened. My friends discovered a treasure trove: four drawers serving as a hairnet depository crammed to the rim with hairnets of all sizes, kinds, colors, and shapes. Hairnets don’t take up a lot of space, so four drawers might hold how many? Fifty, a hundred, five hundred? Who even wears hair nets anymore? I don’t have even a single one. There is probably a hair net museum, but they didn’t know where, so they dumped them in the third pile. As my friends looked further, they discovered a note pad, obviously used for making lists of needed items and the list, written in their grandmother’s handwriting, had only one item listed: hairnets. True story.

So, I was laughing my socks off about this while I was getting ready for my morning walk and opened one of my three sock drawers. I rummaged through for a pair of socks, finding my own treasure trove of mate-less socks squirreled away for a one-footed person. The sock was on the other foot.

The moral of the story? Manage your socks, your BVDs, and yes, your hairnets, so that someday someone else doesn’t have to.

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