I’m sensing a metaphor, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.
I am in a war with my laundry. I think I am actually down to my last pair of clean boxer-briefs, and I’m and still dead set on waiting until I’m wearing them before I start dragging the pile to the washer.
WAY TO LIVE DANGEROUSLY, CAPTAIN!! Who cares about emergencies or accidents? I’m living on the edge! The laundry edge!
Side note: The underwear I’m currently sporting are… smaller than normal. The Girl bought them for me, and either she has no idea what size I actually am, or she is using them as psychological warfare. Either way, I’m living the snug life.
