Despite having written a lengthy serious essay today, I know that regular readers will be thrilled to hear that both pairs of used knickers are now in my possession!
If you’ve only just joined us, I wondered aloud why we’re afraid of wearing someone else’s underwear. And the conversation has continued as a pair of used knickers made its way down the laneway and into a corner.
Well, I have the abandoned women’s knickers, and Quatrefoil has sent me the freshly-washed men’s underpants which she found in her possession. I guess I’ll have to figure out which to wear first now, eh?
For some reason, the purple knickers (which I wrote about last month and the other day) are now wedged in the side of a garage door.
Due to popular demand, here’s a new photo of the abandoned women’s knickers I wrote about last week.
As you can see, they’ve been swept to the side of the laneway by passing traffic and, perhaps, the wind. And they’ve started to intermingle with dried leaves and other detritus.
I took the photo this afternoon. I’ve declined Cassie ST’s suggestion that I wear them on my head.
A pair of purple women’s knickers lies discarded in a laneway in Enmore, Sydney. “There you go,” I say. “Give ’em a wash and you’re right!”
“Ewwww!” is the reply. But why? If the knickers are washed, then they’re clean. Can there possibly be anything worse on these “found” knickers that isn’t already in, say, a 3-year-old’s poo-filled pants — which likewise get washed and worn again? In with the rest of your washing, no less!