pants

I am fresh out of underpants.  Sorry if that’s too much information, but it’s at the front of my mind tonight.  Actually, I am on the cusp of no longer being fresh out of underpants, if that makes sense.  I was *fresh* out of underpants at five o’clock this morning after I grabbed my last pair of clean underpants out of my dresser drawer on my way to the shower.  I remember thinking, “I’ve got to wash more underpants,” and then not thinking about underpants at all until just after I finished eating dinner.  Suddenly: Underpants!  But we were watching Drunk History and that’s something that just cannot be interrupted, so I stayed parked on the sofa enjoying Drunk History while at the same time trying to remember that I really had to wash my underpants before I went to bed.  And I did!  I remembered!  I washed my underpants, maybe a dozen of them, and they’re in the clothes drier as I type these words.  And so are my jammies, which will have to be dry before I can put them on, so I can’t go to be until the clothes drier finishes doing its thing about an hour from now.  So that’s why I’m writing a blog post that’s basically the word “underpants” repeated over and over.  Trying to fill time.  Welp.  Guess I’ll go pester the cat now.  Kay, bye.