Chapter 11

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I type some of these entries in the stark raving nude,
fresh out of a nice contemplative bath.

There was a stretch in the mid-Sixties when housewives wrote the Ann Landers newspaper column, saying that they did their housework in the nude. I can relate. Going clothesless is very comfortable in the summer, and in the South fifty years ago it was probably even more comfortable, comparably, what with the heat that people lived with then and there.


Walking around the house in BVDs is pretty close to walking around naked; with the advantages that you don't have to worry about the furniture and you can usually answer the door without prompting a 911 call. I suppose that that's why walking around like that is so popular. I did it a lot when I was a kid.


It's not very attractive, though, and perhaps this justifies the fancy men's underwear that you see in the stores. Briefs, but with a little more fashion sense.

I've never pursued that option. For the most part, I'm uncomfortable in the fancy underwear department. The package photos are pretty hot. It's like being transported against my will to a gay soft-porn shop, and that's not a place where I would willingly be.

I wonder whether women wander over there once in a while for a little mood lift. I wonder whether Mom buying undies for the kids lingers in the department a little longer than necessary.

No need to be embarassed, Mom. We like you to enjoy yourself.