Friday, 19 July 2013

Protect and Comfort


It is just a fact of life that as days, weeks, months, years and decades pass, everything eventually wears out.

Monasteries in the old world are a good example of this kind of wear and tear. Centuries of monks sandals marching to and from services have worn down the stone stairs by inches. Twenty years ago, at a friend’s home just up the street, I watched him lay railroad ties to make stairs on his front lawn. The new owner recently pulled up the rotted ties and replaced the stairs with sharp looking concrete ones. I imagine that if I were to live long enough, I would see those stairs worn just like in those old monasteries.

The same time that ravages stone, wood and concrete, has the same effect on my underwear. Many years of comfort and protection will very soon come to an end. Truthfully, there hasn’t been a lot of comfort and protection for the past year or so. I rotate my underwear so they all are wearing out at roughly the same rate. What with stretching and holes worn from friction, the comfort and the protection have eased of late. Surprisingly, even though I give them equal usage, some have lost their elasticity sooner than the others. I am going to miss them…we have been close.

I’ve noticed that I have fewer pairs lately and I suspect that Louise has taken the initiative to toss out the hopelessly worn or stretched pairs. She didn’t ask of course, because I would have begged a reprieve for a year or so. I read a story once where the hero would just pull a new pair of underwear over the old ones so that he could break those new ones in properly. Now, I know that is nuts, but there is a certain logic that strikes a chord with me.

I have to try and read the faded labels to find out what brand I wear. It has been quite a while since I bought some and hopefully the company is still in business. No matter what kind I buy, they just won’t feel right for the first few months until they are well and truly broken in. I do have some time left to share with the old underwear, but I suppose the search should begin sooner rather than later.

I was thinking today that perhaps the real right of passage into manhood is when you buy your first pair of underwear. It’s hard to be a tough guy when your mommy still buys your underwear for you. I suppose that some men never buy their own underwear. First it’s their moms and then the wives take over the task. It almost makes you wish that you were Scottish and had no need for underwear. The trouble with that is that you would have to wear a skirt and if not buying your own underwear prevents you from becoming a man, then going commando while wearing a skirt can’t help very much.

In the end I suppose that I will get new underwear and we will begin a relationship that will, more than likely end when I die. I won’t toss out the old pairs as if they are some kind of unloved garbage. NO! I will keep them in the garage and use them to polish my bike and to wipe dust off of my different work surfaces. Holes and stretched elastic won’t matter any more.


Yep, just like the monks of old walking on their worn monastery steps, me and my underwear will continue to protect and comfort while we become holier…

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