Ninja Undie Attacks

What is it with men and washing machines? My other-half is pretty good at separating whites from coloureds and not putting fluffy towels in with work pants etc... but it's those BLOODY burrs that get me!

Anyone that knows me knows that we are involved in Tuff Truck and this means that for weeks prior to the event there is a lot of work to be done on the property to get it ready. Some of this work involves fencing and clearing, of which my other-half is an active participant.

The problem is that getting stuck into this type of work means that he has to walk through acres and acres of long grass and scrub that has these nasty little burrs - ones that look like little Ninja throwing discs. They are three sided and these little bastards are SHARP.

So, these nasty little pricks (take that anyway you like) have a habit of adhering themselves to his socks. When he comes home after a weekend up at the site, there are literally HUNDREDS of them hitching a ride back with him. A solution we used to have was our little 'prickle remover'... my rat, Fee Fee. These seemed to be the rat equivalent of chocolate, and if I laid out the socks for her (or if Greg was sitting somewhere with her) she would spend ages picking them off and stashing them in her 'pantry' to enjoy later. We no longer have Fee'... so the little buggers remain intact.

The problem lies with washing these socks. Greg has the really annoying habit of just tossing them in with the 'first' load of washing... which includes all my lacy bras and undies. Burrs + lacy undies = OUCH!

I first became aware of this factor during an important meeting. I was deep in conversation with a client and was suddenly aware of a sharp sensation in my... ahh.. 'nether regions'. I shifted in my chair to get comfortable and was met with a similar sensation elsewhere in my underwear.

Attempting to soldier on with the meeting, I spent the next 30 minutes shifting around in my chair (much to the odd looks of those around me), attempting to discretely deal with the sensation of having 1000 bull-ants in my undies. Once the meeting was over, I raced off to the ladies to try and work out what the hell was going on.

Bolting into the loo, I tore off my underwear and inspected them closely. There were literally HUNDREDS of tiny little burrs (unseen as when I dressed that morning it was still quite dark) imbedded in the lace and elsatic, that had slowly worked their way to the surface, inflicting what can only be described as the equivalent of 'chilli powder in your undies-type' injuries to my 'bits'.

I decided that I would take an early mark for the day and went home to deal with my injuries... you've gotta love Savlon... and spend the afternoon doing a major 'pantie inspection'.

To say there was some major lecturing on sock washing that evening would be an understatement.