The Underpants of Ceanliness

So I'm diddling around in the laundry room when I notice a pair of underwears perched on a shelf in a nice, neat wad. My first thought was, "Who leaves their underpants lying around?" But then I realized that, you know, we all live together, this is every one's house and people have a right to leave their underwear wherever they want... within reason. And the laundry room is definitely within reason. So, I walked away, still giggling a little because they are, in fact, tighty-whiteys.

A few days later I putter back into the laundry room and spy the little white lump on the wire rack, still there. This time, however, Paul is home. So I yell into the living room

"Hey, Paul! What's the deal with the man-panties in here?!"

He couldn't hear me so he strides back to where I'm still puzzling over the offending bit of cloth when he chimes in

"Oh, that's a rag!"

and cheerily wanders away because as far as he's concerned, the conundrum is solved. Not as far as I'm concerned though.

"A rag?! Are you serious?"
"Yeah."

At which point I realize that this is yet another example of how bizarre boys are when it comes to house things. Wiping the counter-top with a pair of men's underwear (and I'm suuuurreee they're clean... right?) isn't quite my idea of a confidence inducing move as far as house cleaning goes. Plus, not only do we have rags, we have an entire MOUNTAIN of rags. I counted at least twenty dirty ones on the counter the other day, so it's not like we're in such desperate need of rags that we need to resort to using men's underwear. But that's besides the point.

"I think that the next time we have someone over, Paul, you should totally whip these out and start "cleaning" the counter with them. Better yet, whistle while you do it, so then it's like there's nothing bizarre about this whole situation."

And that was the end of the conversation, but not of my fascination with the idea. Thus, here is a blog entry complete with a picture to immortalize life in Oly.