I may well be the world's most simple simpleton.
First, earlier this morning, I literally just heard myself inwardly cheering, "Hooray! It's Leopard Panties Day!"
Second, before writing the above sentence, I had to google the correct spelling. "Panty?" "Pantie?" "Panties?" It's hard to find the correct term for referring to one "pair" of panties. Think about it.
Now, you're googling it, aren't you!? Yes, you are.
You can't figure it out either.
This one thing we surely have in common.
When I tumbled out of the shower a bit ago, I spied with my little eye the pile of panties that Alan had tossed onto the counter on my side of the bathroom earlier this fine morning. Why did Alan toss the panties? Because, I don't dry them in the drier. I lay them out on the side of the tub to dry. This morning, he needed access to the tub. He had to tear down what he lovingly refers to as the "Wall of Panties." Per usual, he scooped them up and tossed them.
Now, you know why Alan tosses panties from time to time.
Back to cheering for the leopard underpants. I love, love, love my Soma Vanishing Edge pantaloons. However, they are not all created equally. Depending on the fabric and trim of the actual panty, they vary a bit in overall comfort. The difference is minute compared to the difference in the comfort level of the several pairs of jeans I own. Fat jeans. Skinny jeans. Those-don't-work-with-that-blouse jeans. Lay-on-the-bed-to-zip jeans.
The leopard panties are comfort personified. Make that "pantified."
The leopard panties are "stylish."
The leopard panties are suitable for auto accidents involving the cutting off of clothing.
The last time I slipped into a Soma boutique - lured by the tantalizing SALE signs - I picked up a lovely leopard pair with lace insets. This was so out of character for me. I am traditionally a safe-playing-"light nude"-no-frills kind of panty girl.
"Well, hubba hubba," I thought, "Won't Mr. Alan be in for a big surprise!" I actually felt a bit brazen when I piled the panties on the counter at the register. I sheepishly tucked the bawdy leopard showgirl panties into the middle of the pile.
Home with my new panties, I dubbed the daring leopard panties "Save-These-For-Special." It wasn't until I actually tried them on that the whole meaning of "special" changed dramatically. Those leopard panties are (is?) quintessential in fit and comfort. Love. Love. Love. Heart. Heart. Heart.
Now, I save them for special days when I want to feel extravagantly comfortable as well as sassy.
It's Wednesday. I may run a few errands. I have no lunch plans (unless Alan figures out it's Leopard Panty Day.) When I - fresh from the shower - spied those panties, I quickly reviewed my mental list of Leopard Panty Day requirements, and then light-heartedly threw caution to the wind.
Hence, the "Hooray! It's Leopard Panties Day!"
Yes, I, Simple Simpleton, am greatly pleased by the tiniest of daily hidden treasures that normal people stroll past hurriedly unaware like the deep golden-amber color of a perfect tall glass of sweet tea with lemon, the way raindrops slide into themselves becoming tiny united rivulets on a windshield, and a perfectly sharpened #2 pencil. Most days it's great fun to be me.