I’d like to start off the recaps a bit unconventionally, with a story. This story takes place the Tuesday before our wedding and the evening before we were to depart town and make the ten hour drive to Georgia.
It was a
dark and stormy night pretty regular evening with fairly average weather conditions. I was doing laundry (after all, I didn’t want to come home to a hamper full of old dirty clothes after the wedding). Things were going as usual, as laundry usually does. Clothes in the wash. Clothes out of the wash. Clothes in the dryer. Mr. Whale and I were relaxing in the apartment while the clothes were spinning in the dryer when a beep from my phone indicated that it was time to retrieve the clothes. (If I don’t set an alarm, I forget about the laundry… Responsibility isn’t really one of my strengths.)
I marched outside and down the sidewalk to the laundry room, where I filled my purple elephant hamper (which, coincidentally, is the exact same hamper that my bridesmaid’s five year-old daughter has) with our clean clothes.
Back in the apartment, I began the fairly mundane task of sorting the laundry. Socks in one pile. Underwear in another pile. Fold the t-shirts. You know the drill. When all was sorted and it was time to begin putting things away, I reached for the items that I tend to put away first: my underwear. But I had to pause. Where were they? They weren’t where I usually put them. Did I accidentally pile them under the socks? No. Did they end up inside a pillow case? No.
“Mr. Whale,” I called, “I think my underwear is missing.”
“What? Are you sure you didn’t just forgot to put them in? How many pairs are missing?”
“All of them.”
We searched the apartment. Maybe I had forgotten to put them in laundry. But even I, champion of disorganization and clutter, usually remember to put my underwear in the hamper after I shower. I went back down to the laundry room. Nothing. Did the dryer eat my underwear? All of them?? But with nothing else missing… unlikely.
We were forced to accept the only possible answer. Someone stole my underwear. But who??
Was it the early-thirties man who was putting his laundry in the washer when I was moving mine to the dryer? (But then, he would be stealing clean underwear, and don’t “those kind of people” prefer the undies one has just recently worn?) Was it a girl who just wanted free underwear?? Was it the hamburglar? (Probably not.) I guess we’ll never know.
All I do know is this: it was time to pack for my wedding, and I had no underwear. I started to giggle. It was ridiculous, after all. Who steals underwear?? And right before my wedding! “Expect the unexpected,” they say. Well, this was certainly unexpected. Then I thought, “Well, at least I have a funny story for the blog.”
Luckily, everything worked out in the end. I hadn’t put all of my underwear in the wash, so I gathered together enough pairs to get me through the wedding. (It certainly made the task of choosing which underwear to wear on the big day easier, though, as several of my favorite pairs were missing! I only had a few to choose from now.) And now, when someone asks what the weirdest thing that happened with my wedding was, I get to say, “Well… someone stole all of my underwear…”
Anyone else have something completely unexpected (and not even wedding-related) throw a kink in the works before the wedding?
Miss a recap? No, of course you didn’t, because this is the first one!