Peter Piper, Panties and Procrastination

One month!  I have gone one month without buying anything for myself!  Yeah me!  I am well on my way to making it one quarter with no clothing/shoe/accessory purchases.  In retrospect, doing a bit of inventory followed by an emergency shopping spree would have been a good pregame.  As it is, I have plenty of all the things I like to buy.  Tights – got em!  Miniskirts – one for every day of the week!  Boots – whoa mama I got the boots!  What I do not have is regular-old-boring-to-buy socks.  Realizing a week into the challenge that all of my training socks are either threadbare or lacking elasticity is quite unfortunate timing.  This is perhaps my first year having an actual written (ok, it’s on my i-touch which is almost like written) Christmas list since I moved out of my parents’ house.  On the top of that list: Full length mirror, but right under that…boring functional socks.  Yes.  I want socks for Christmas.  Pack your parkas.  Hell is freezing over.

The Challenge has motivated me to thin the herd.  When digging through my sock and underwear drawer trying to find an acceptable (maybe even matched) pair of white cotton socks for a jog, I procrastinated (The procrastination is strong in this one) said jog by dumping the drawer and getting down to work.  I couldn’t get rid of my dilapidated socks because running in purple thigh-highs may be good for a laugh, but bad for blisters…I assume.  Because this is totally not something I would ever do or have ever done.   Girl Scout promise.  There were tights in there from HIGH SCHOOL!  In all fairness, they were completely awesome red footless tights with lace around the ankle.  They were totes all the rage in 92.  They have made the cut time and time again because tomorrow’s 90’s parties are going to be as totally bitchin’ as the 80’s bashes of today.  Who doesn’t want to dress like Nirvana and get drunk?  …or maybe hike? …Garden?  Not that Nirvana wore red lace trimmed tights, but maybe their girlfriends’ did.  Maybe not.  I am shocked and deeply saddened at the loss of red tights.  It appears that decades of neglect took their toll and elastic rot crept in late one night.  We will all miss red tights.  Rot is not acceptable in any form of under garment.  Ever.  Really.  Get that looked at! Red tights were joined by several similarly aged hosiery friends.  The survivors of “nylon holocaust 2011” were neatly folded and stacked by color.  It is amazing how “type A” I can be when I am doing my best procrastinating. 

Next – the underwear.  The drawers within the drawer.  Wow.  It appears I also like buying panties.  There were ones in there I don’t remember buying along with ones I thought I got rid of ages ago.  Out came a shopping bag and soon it was full (full!) of knickers.  I was going to count, but I am so fond of the fab scale Husband bought me that I weighed the bag instead.  Over a pound!  A pound of panties!  As they were mainly my cut of choice, thongs, I began singing, “Peter Piper pitched a pound of partial panties…”  Really.  I’m not proud of it.  Into the bin went the bag of briefs along with the tangle of tights. 

Now to put it all back together again.  How is it possible this way smaller amount of lingerie (ok, calling my workout socks lingerie is more than a stretch) can’t fit back in the drawer?  It is all folded and stacked and organized and totally not fitting.  WTF?  Ok, well if I just slide this here and combine this..and well…great – I’m done.  And it looks just as overcrowded and screwed up as it did an hour ago when I went looking for freaking socks.