My poor husband. He doesn’t ask for much. Really. Just love. Soap. Me to be happy. Clean underwear. I do not know why three of those tasks are sometimes impossible for me to accomplish.

I do the laundry.

I swear.

But, if there is just half of a load to do. Or three quarters of a load to do. Or ninety-ninth of a hundredth of a load to do, I will put it off. I mean I would not want to waste water on a not-full-load. I am not always irresponsible. Somehow all of my husband’s underwear ends up being in that ridiculously light load. Every time.

The other day, he decided to do a batch of just his underwear.

All of his underwear.

In one batch.

All. Of. It.

This would be a wonderful idea. It would even make sense… If he wasn’t married to me.

The sad part is he didn’t even complain about not having any clean underwear.

He didn’t say anything.

He just decided to wash them on his own.

And the sweet underwear got washed.

And the sweet underwear got dried.

And the sweet underwear got folded.

And the sweet underwear got put…

I can’t remember.

I put it somewhere safe.

I vaguely recall carrying it in my hands.

And then…

Nothing.

I’ve got nothin’.

I have looked all over the house. In every clothing drawer. In every drawer where clothes could hide. I cannot find them. He cannot find them. He is finally getting a little upset.

I have tried to tell him that maybe his underwear ran away to go make baby…dimes.

This did not help the situation.

Then I told him maybe Tinkerbell stole them.

Not. A. Hint. Of. A. Smile.

Today my day will be spent checking the freezer (where I once put our keys) , the baseboards (where I found my diamond earring), the pantry (where I found my glasses), the entertainment center where I found my… You get it. Well, unless you guessed brain. Then I would know you have not read my blog. I obviously left that one… Somewhere safe.

Actually, what I will really be doing today is going to the store and buying him some brand new underwear. Then I will come home and I will wash them. Dry them. Put them…

In his hands.

And be declared The. Best. Wife. Ever.

‘Cause that is what it is like being married to me.

He will feel so…lucky…

Until he finds his other underwear one day. Where I put it safely. In his briefcase. When he opens it at work.

Just kidding.

He doesn’t even have a brief case.

But I think that is definitely where those underwear went.

Definitely.