As much as I love my cozy, loft-style town home 10 minutes outside downtown Denver, I want, want, want a little house. Four walls all my own. The dividing walls in my unit (dirty) contain no brick and little soundproof insulation, creating a near constant flow of neighborly noise. Bah-boom. Bah-boom. Bah-boom. With sounds originating from the stereo, TV or in the pipes, it's like living in Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart".
Panties. Whether purchased from Macy's, Vickie Secrets or somewhere in-between, the quality and grade aren't cutting it. It’s ever-so frustrating to pull on a lovely pair and watch the lace unravel or tiny, stretchy threads explode from the waistband. I must build a better panty portfolio. All clothing, really. The more you spend, the more you save in the long-run, as I’ve learned by black tees that fade to charcoal gray with one wash, or 100% cotton sweaters that stretch to monkey-arm-length while in use.
Think the boss will buy the "panty theory"?