Seventy-two

Seventy-two is the number of pairs of underwear that I own.

Six dozen. That is more days than there are in two months.

I HATE doing laundry, so I put it off as long as possible, oftentimes waiting until I'm pet sitting for someone with fancier laundry room set-ups than I have and then I do laundry at their house.

So last weekend I was cat sitting for Bella and decided to do some laundry, that I'd been putting off for....a while. I think the last MASSIVE laundry undertaking was some time in August, but since then it's just been an emergency load here and there to get by.

But I had finally reached the point of no return: I no longer had clean underwear. Seriously, I was down to a thong and a pair of Spanx. So I did laundry. Washed, dried, folded.

As I began putting my laundry away, I realized that I, indeed, had a lot of underwear. "How much exactly?" I wondered. So I counted.

Seventy-two pairs of underwear.

(Yes, I realize that the internet knows a lot about my underwear and my disdain for other words used to discuss said underwear. It's clearly an important topic in my life.)