Dawn Is Me

Sometimes you learn things about people from doing their laundry.

(That’s why moms run the world.)

Here’s an example, something I found myself contemplating today: what do you learn about somebody from where their jeans wear out?

The kids are really simple. All of them poke holes in the knees of their jeans. That’s because all four of them were born with knives attached to their knees, sort of like Wolverine but only in that one spot.

Hey, I have reason to know about the knives. I was there. I knew there was a reason why everybody said childbirth was so painful.

Spouse and I are a very different matter.

I wear my jeans out in the time-honored feminine fashion of the threadbear interior thigh syndrome — a condition caused by the continual rubbing together of female thighs that used to be farther apart than that … but we won’t go there.

My spouse, on the other hand, seems to wear his jeans out in a curious spot, right there where his left ball resides.

Now … why do you suppose that is?

Is it the way he sits? Is it the way he crosses his legs to give the cat a place to be?

Or maybe … maybe both his balls spend their time inside those jeans gasping for air … fighting feverishly for their freedom … working the cotton threads with little files or flint or something while he’s busy talking on the phone. Maybe the left ball keeps breaking free because it’s just got more issues and more hostility than the right one.

Of course, there are always a few strands of cotton left across the hole, just enough to keep him from getting away completely, but still …

Sometimes, you gotta wonder …