Underneath it All

In days of yore and yonder past, if a gent really fancied you, he’d bring back wood and game as sustenance for your culinary cave fire or offer help disembraking from the carriage. :kiss1: What, you wonder, is the modern day Order of the Garter equivalent? According to my guy, it’s whipping out the ol’ Woolite Gel and gettin’ down to business…with, ahem, the unmentionables. Yes, it’s true that while in Europe Mr. Q really did as the Europeans do and handwashed each of my lacy-racies in our barbie-sized bathroom sink. :redhead: Oh and a few pairs of stinky, dirty socks too.

Every relationship has milestones…for some it is the first overnight slumberparty stay. For others, it’s the inaugural joint purchase of articles ranging from a supermarket potroast to a lawnmower. For me, one was watching my Highland honey gladly scrub and ring out EACH of my panty pairs (twice) and tenderly put them on our hotel heater to dry. The act of stepping outside himself (with nose pinched) to do something sub-Brahim meant more to me than any roses and $2,000 Liberty shopping spree ever could. He not only touched my undies, he touched my heart. I therefore nominate him for scrub-a-dub-dub sainthood. And give him latitude for his frequent bodily eruptions. Hail RJQ! Remind me never to travel on a trip longer than W’s attention span without him. :mrgreen:

With Love and Detergent Bubbles,
TLRL

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