This week I have mostly been wearing my sexy undies.
Last Monday our washing machine died. It was a noisy death accompanied by a puff of smoke.
It probably died of hard work. Having two small children who can't seem to eat a meal without smearing it all over themselves had meant almost daily use for quite some time. I'm also guilty of only wearing clothes once. I know, I know, it's not environmentally friendly, but it smells good.
I'm waiting for a new machine to be delivered today. Please let it be today St John of Lewis.
We've managed to survive without a washing machine by dressing unusually. The boys are down to odd socks, dirty jeans and stained tops. At least their grandma knitted them new cardigans for Christmas. They are sporting the Val Doonican look for warmth and to cover up food stains.
And I am wearing sexy undies.
I soon ran out of my everyday, M&S, pack of five, pants. So I rummaged at the back of my underwear drawers and found the good stuff. The pretty stuff. The frilly stuff. The lacy stuff. The matching stuff. The stuff I used to wear Before Children.
Do you know what? It feels good. I feel more feminine. I feel like I've got a secret.
I've missed feeling like this.
Never keep anything for best.
This post was written in response to writing prompt 2, Tell me about something you miss, in the Sleep is for the weak writing workshop.