Some change is good. Some is not. Like this morning.
I’m laying out my clothes for the day and I pick up a brand-new pair of underwear. I haven’t yet had my Elixir of Knowledge, so I’m a little out-of-focus. I rotate the tighty-whiteys through my hands, trying to find the label so I know how to put them on.
Two minutes later, I’m still rotating - but now cognizant of my surroundings.
Wha . . .
There is no little tag on the INSIDE, just the name, “Fruit of the Loom”, which repeats itself over and over, on the OUTSIDE.
It’s like some sort of abdominal-circling, elastic marquee.
Wha . . .
I’m perplexed. From a child, I was told to always put the tag on the inside. On the shirt, the t-shirt, and, yes, the underwear. Keep that stuff to yourself. It’s private.
But here I hold in my hands the antithesis of all my upbringing: "If you got it, flaunt it."
Wha . . .
Pajama-clad, I wander out to the kitchen. A full cup of the Elixir shocks me towards the only plausible explanation for such stitching.
They want me to show the world I wear tighty-whiteys. THEIR tighty-whiteys.
Wha . . .
Now, I have, in the course of my lifetime, tucked my shirt (accidentally) into my underwear, letting those in my wake see my choice of hidden comfort. But (pardon the pun) never intentionally.
Change. Yeah, sometimes.
However, there are some things that never change. That should never change. That will never change.
Absolutes.
I get dressed, making sure to properly tuck in my shirt. I even inhale to get an extra notch on the belt for added holding power.
Migrating to the living room, I plop down in the Chair. With a cup of the Elixir. And the Word.
A comfortable sigh precedes a big draught of the Elixir. Then I open at the bookmark. Oh, yeah.
Some things shouldn’t change.
At all.