I have lost my underwear, I don’t care, I’ll go [uh, wait]
So, first order of business. Choppers are yooper-style “buckskin” glubs that Men — you know, Real Yooperland Men — wear when they do outdoor chores. I grew up hearing people (aka my dad and brother) say things like, “I gotta get my choppers on” or “Where are my choppers?” In Real Yooperland Man voices, sometimes with ceegars hanging outta their mouths. And then I moved down south to The Planet Ann Arbor and never heard the term again until last winter when we were up at Tahq and it was 20 below zero and everybody under the sun was talking about their choppers. Whoa, was I off on a sentimental journey [Youtube link] or what? Nowadays, it isn’t just Real Yooperland Men who wear choppers. Anyway, I want some choppers so I can channel my Inner Yooper or whatever.
Underwear? Yes, I lost about eight pairs of underwear for about a week. How does one lose their underwear? Well. How I lost moi underwear is that I had the Blue and Only Bathroom completely gutted. And that is where I have kept moi underwear for the last couple decades. In a dish pan on the floor in the Blue and Only Closet with my 0-skunk-30 urban hiking clothing. Oh, no, I did not leave the underwear in the bathroom to be carted away by the DreamMaker trucks. I moved it all outta the bathroom before it was gutted. I thought I had put it all into my Former Underwear Drawer but when I was packing for the Yooperland last week, I could only find three pairs. (Why do we call a singular garment like underwear a pair anyway? Anyone know?) That worked out okay as it turned out but I always like to throw a couple extra pair in just in case I, you know, fall in the mud or laugh so hard I you-know-what.
This morning? My turtleneck sweater drawer had been feeling a bit overcrowded, so I pulled ALL of my turtlenecks outta there along with… What do you think? A whole bunch of underwear. Black cotton (or mostly cotton) thank you very much. TMI?
The GG is not impressed with my sad little lost underwear story. He is in mourning for a beloved hat and has been searching all over creation for a replacement. I feel for him. I mourn for the days when I could online-order a new pair of LL Bean winter tennis shoes when my old pair wore out and know that they would fit correctly.
The tchotchkes? Jeebus. We are in the midst of a major renovation over where I work and we can either crate our “stuff” or take it home for the duration that we are kicked out to telecommute. I have very little “stuff” in my cube. I have recycled tons of paper and there are some random computer-type cables and connectors that were there when I inherited my cube IN 2008!!!! I dunno what they are for and so I will leave them for someone else to deal with. Anything I have that is worth anything (besides my laptop, which I’ll be using while I work from home during the renovation), I am taking home.
I am taking Broooosie’s stuff home. This is only the stuff that has ended up in my cube during times that Brooooosie’s cube was overflowing and he was told to tone it down. My co-workers have some of Broooosie’s stuff too. I *think* I actually own some of this stuff at this point, not that I necessarily want to add to my own permanent collection. I definitely do not own the stuffed flower. It’s a loaner. At any rate, Broooosie actually did a bang-up job of packing up his cube and he’s off until after the new year. I chose to bubble wrap the stuff he has left in my cube over the years and take it home. If he wants it back someday, it’ll be safe. If he doesn’t want it back, I’ll re-gift it or take it down to Kiwanis.
Love to all of you and to all of your weird co-workers. I mean those co-workers who are weird in a good way like Brooooosie.
December 15th, 2015 at 9:47 pm
I’ve heard of choppers, the motorcycles, but never gloves by that name. However, it is mild weather here, so we rarely wear gloves. Glad you found your underwear. Going commando is tough at our age. 😉
December 16th, 2015 at 8:33 am
God Bless my Underwear, my only pair! Stand inside them, guide them up, through the fight with my tights, right up there.