That’s the text I sent to my daughter after I finally composed myself. It was Saturday morning in Savannah and I had just finished leisurely reading the paper and enjoying my second cup of coffee. My sweaty husband was back from the hotel gym and busy rummaging through his duffel bag…
rummaging…and rummaging..and rummaging.
“Well, this isn’t good” he finally muttered, “I forgot to pack my underwear.”
“WHAAAT?” I gasped, “are you sure?”
He dumped the contents of his bag on the bed and looked up at me like a lost puppy..”yes, I’m sure. The only pair I have are the ones I have on- and now they are drenched in sweat.”
Now I ask you, who looks at a sad little doggy and laughs? Who is that darn cruel?
Me, that’s who..for about a solid three minutes.
And then came the teasing and the texts to alert the kids… Can you believe your dad overlooked THIS? HAHA!!
After his shower, we discussed our options going forward. There were plenty of serious things to consider, like chafing .. which can ruin a walking tour for sure.
Wear the sweaty underwear? No- Way too gross and problematical on multiple levels.
Wear my Victoria’s Secret underwear? Umm, no..just no… Although truth be told, I think I may have once (long ago) found myself in a similar situation and had to wear his Hanes.
Go commando? Why yes, yes he did.
I always hate to see chain stores and restaurants in historic districts. I feel it is in such poor taste and not at all in keeping with true and authentic preservation. But let me just say, we were beyond excited to see a GAP store nestled in between the gift shops selling bow ties and canvas belts with shrimp on them… and yes, not only did they have underwear, but hey..they were having a sale!
So all was back in order as he stepped out of the fitting room, and that was good not only for my husband, but for me as well as I was slowly running out of old guy jokes. We went on to enjoy a comfortable day under white, cotton clouds getting fully ‘briefed’ on the history of the South.
Later that evening I wore my brand new dress out to Noble Fare, one of our favorite little restaurants in town. I don’t know what it is about vacation, but my fashion choices are always bolder. The dress I wore was brightly colored, cut above the knees (!!) with dramatic sleeves that fluttered with every gesture. This little ditty was fun to wear, especially with my chunky, corky wedges. I really felt like a million bucks, and not the wrinkly, crinkly kind, but a million, crisp, hot off the printing press, YOUNG bucks if you know what I mean!
As my husband and I reached around the single long stemmed rose in the center of the table and gently touched the rims of our wine glasses together for a lovely toast, something white on my ruffled sleeve caught my eye…Yup, there it was..and there it had been for the last hour or so as I pranced around the hotel and Savannah and the restaurant ..Yes..there it was dangling for all to see- the price tag!
How could I have overlooked THIS?
A sly smile spread across my husband’s face.
Let the old lady jokes begin…