But like, where is all my underwear?
I can’t find my underwear. Not in a spicy, “oops left it on the floor at his place” way and more in the way of searching wildly through my top dresser drawer, flinging balled up tights and single socks and stretched-out wiry bras behind me to get into every corner. I know they are here somewhere. I know, in theory, I have, like, plenty of underwear. Right? A normal amount. A perfectly normal grouping of underwear. I’ve even bought underwear recently! Like IT IS here. But also, it’s not. Because it’s nowhere.
It’s a delicate dance, as I know I tripped over a least two pairs yesterday, casually strewn across my bedroom floor, despite being freshly washed. But now those wily bitches are hiding in plain sight.
And maybe there’s a pair in my weekender bag from the trip I never unpacked from, that was maybe like two months ago? Or was it four? Also where is that weekender?
I’ll check the dryer because of course, at least one pair will be in the dryer. It is absolutely chock full of items. It is bursting at the seams. Searching through this dryer is like wading through cement. Hauling a towel out amidst the endless pile has depleted my already tenuous grip on sanity. I can’t possibly go on.
Until… STRUCK GOLD. It is, naturally, a pair I loathe. A thong (of course). No stretch (figures). Scratchy tag (*scream*).
ANYWAY, TOTALLY UNRELATED, HERE’S WHAT’S IN MY CART THIS WEEK:
Skims
This fabric!! As soft as angel wings. as kitten fur. I wish they would make them in every color because I would buy every. single. pair. Perfect for sleeping in. The band does attract lint so wash on delicate.
Amazon
The viral Skims dupe pack (comes in tons of colors, also in a thong version). Literally like air. Whipped air. So comfortable, great price. Size up, as they run small. Have repurchased multiple because as established above, I can’t keep track of anything I own.
The Files
Budgeting? Okay, fine
Hyperfixations
Interior Envy
She’s a REader
Top Drawer
Watch Party
What to wear
Hey, Kelly here. Welcome to The Landline. Dial in for gentle deep dives into anything and everything I'm obsessing over at the moment (mostly sane, always silly). Grab your Diet Coke, wind that phone cord around your finger, and let's get to it.