I’m starting to think the time you feel most out of sorts is when you’re wearing underwear that doesn’t work for you. It’s either that it’s too small, or too big, or it bunches up, or… This is coming from a guy. I only have one undergarment. I have a hard time imagining the struggles women go through to get out the door.
Jacob still has the occasional accident where he doesn’t make it to the toilet. These are usually small dribble type accidents, so it’s not a big mess. He had one of these earlier this week before my folks came to visit. Laureen got him out of his underwear and just pulled up his shorts. He clambers down the stairs, goes up to my mom and whispers with a mischievous gleam in his eye, “Granny! I’m going commando!”
Just FYI, if you visit the blog regularly, there’s more protected pages on the right hand top side. These are basically writing projects–some things I’m trying to work on in order to get them out of my head. If you want to read them, you can ask, but they aren’t necessarily finished, done, or even good.
I’m trying to make writing more of a habit. 120 characters really doesn’t go terribly far these days, and if I’m going to finally give meaning to my life, I need to start exploring those parts of my brain that are quiet.