What're you eating under there?

WARNING: this post contains mature content about underwear. kind of.

During finals week, I thought about finals. Almost exclusively. Some might say I obsessed over them. The act of packing up my room was not at all forefront in my mind until Friday at noon. Come that time, though, I was intent on packing up. I thought of everything. Clothes had their suitcases, books had their Sterilites, sheets had their boxes, dishes and cookware had their boxes, too. I even moved all of what I had packed into the living room area of our apartment, arranged by weight and size: heaviest, squarest, and most packable nearest the door. Everything had a place, everything was thought of. Everything, that is, except for underwear and for the clothes and toiletries I would need for the three days spent in Auburn before driving home.

Our extremely awkward, bless her heart, RA came to do the customary room checkout. I paid little to no attention as she did her thing because, like I said, I'd already thought of everything. My staring into space was interrupted when I heard, "oh...ahh...you...ahh...don't forget your...stuff". I turned around and saw she had opened the top drawer of my dresser, where all of my bras were just chillin'. "Whoopsies. Yeah, I'll be needing those." And she didn't make eye contact with me again. I think I made her uncomfortable, and I am truly sorry. I am also truly amused.

When all was moved out of the apartment and into Calpurnia, including the rogue bras, my dad and I set up quarters in a La Quinta for the night. What else to do with time on our hands in the big city than seeing The Avengers and eating popcorn for dinner? So we did. Then, pulling back into the La Quinta at 11:15 at night, I came to the realization that all of my clothes were packed amidst the veritable jigsaw puzzle of boxes in the back of my car. Now, this wouldn't have been such a problem - I'd already been wearing the clothes I had on for two or three days. What's a couple more? - except for the fact that every single pair of underwear I own was packed in the innermost, bottom-most bag. Cue a midnight underwear run to Walmart, where I also picked up some jeggings and a t-shirt. What more could a girl need?

Just like that, two strange underwear occurrences graced my one day. Until now, my underwear has been pretty boring. Now it's got some character. And it's on teh interwebz.