TMI (too much information)

I went through four pairs of underwear today. Now, before you turn away in disgust, let me promise you that there will be no mention of human fecal matter, urine issues, or even girl stuff, in the paragraphs below. And, if you are disappointed by that turn, I sincerely apologize; I am sure there are other blogs out there that might better cater to your interests.

The first two are easy enough to account for. Woke up in a pair, showered, and dressed in a clean pair - pretty standard daily underwear use.

I had to change into a third pair after being caught in a monsoon. Well, to be fair, it was just some rain, but monsoon sounds much more dramatic and even a downpour doesn't encourage accurate images of how wet I became.

It's all the dog's fault. Or, my dog-related guilt. The poor pup continued to look so cute and plaintive about having an outdoor adventure that I agreed to take him for a walk around the lake despite the color of the sky. I like to let him decide the direction at crossroads, although he is such a good dog he waits for the person walking him to lead the way. Today he seemed to know I was trying to short-change him though and immediately chose the long way when I paused to let him point out a direction.

I had set a goal of the next bend to turn around when the trees and the sky and the motion and the air signaled quite clearly that even the next bend was too far. It seemed the exact second I turned around to head back to the car, I turned into a wall of rain. It was refreshing, walking through the dramatic storm, except for the soaked jeans, sloshy shoes, and that tiny hint of danger that always screams out inside girls about the risks of being alone in the woods.

It's amazing how much water comes off a dog in that shake-shake-shake rhythm that zigs down their bodies. Unfortunately, you can really tell how much water flies off the dog - in all directions - when those shake-shake-shakes occur in the backseat of your car. Wow. What a freaking mess. When we made it home I toweled him off, toweled me off, changed into what I'm sure you now recognize as the third pair of underwear, and toweled off the car. I had intended to stop at the store on the way back from our walk, so I headed out in dry gear to pick up dinner ingredients.

And that's when I was just stupid. All that effort to dry off me, dry off the dog, and dry off everything the dog touched or sprayed, and I stupidly sat right down on the wet driver's seat that my previously soaked bottom had dampened. I didn't realize it until I got to the store and was walking towards the door, feeling the wet and looking back to see that my light gray pants were made of the sort of material that screams out wetness by turning a completely different dark color, hinting to strangers that I may well have wet my pants.

And so, despite sitting on a shopping bag for the return trip, upon my arrival home I also arrived at my fourth pair of the day. It's 10:00pm now and I'm trying to remain confident I'm going to hold it to four. Otherwise, tomorrow is definitely laundry day.