Moving debriefs

The movers arrive in six days and all I can think about is my underwear. In fact, this is keeping me awake at night. I should be worrying about the kids transitioning to new schools, my imminent lack of friends and my complete lack of knowledge as to where Target is in relation to our new home. But, none of this matters and none of this will gain my attention until I can figure out exactly how to transport my underpants.

You see, the movers are packing up our stuff. I've purged everything not needed. I've grouped everything that should be together. The house is in order and ready to go. Except my bloomers. I'm torn. Do I let the movers pack them or do I stuff them in a suitcase and transport them via stealth mode, all by myself? I generally have no shame. Next to nothing embarrasses me evidenced by this blog post. Underwear, however, are the exception. I want no one to see the pantie potpourri. Oh, ladies, you know what I'm talking about. Lovely VS thongs, comfy Old Navy hipsters and the evil, but necessary, gamut of granny pants. Hell, I'm sure I've still got maternity girdles garnering space.

10+ years ago, when I lived in NYC, Mike and some guy friends helped me move from one roach-infested studio to an even more vermin-laden apartment. My personal effects were in a plastic, see-through rolling cart with drawers. My friend, JK, didn't realize what he was moving until he placed it in the U-Haul and watched in horror as the cart started rolling back off the truck. JK did a Herculean dive for the cart and spared unsuspecting New Yorkers from being pelted by big-ass bloomers. To JK, I'd like to say thank you. I'm forever indebted to you. You're a true friend. My bad for stashing skivvies in a see-through cart on wheels.

Luckily, I learned from that mistake. Now, my drawers are stowed in real drawers. But now, I don't want strangers seeing my drawers in real drawers. What's a panicky panty wearer to do? My flippin' knickers are in a bunch. Life would be easier without underwear.