(Notice I said “sometimes.”)
(Also, I hesitated to transfer this post from my imagination to my blog because it would discuss an item of women’s private apparel. But then I couldn’t resist, so, oh well.)
You guys, I’ve known pathological hoarders (and have heard about the shows that feature them, although I’ve missed watching them since we don’t have cable) and I’m not really one of those. But I get how they think. Luckily I also have pretty strong purging tendencies, so my bulimic relationship to personal belongings helps keep things in balance (even if it’s really hard on my teeth). (That was a stupid bulimia joke, in case you missed it.)
So anyway, I just put away some freshly laundered wool socks even though they have holes in them, because the holes won’t prevent the socks from keeping my feet warm at night, which is all I use the socks for. As I opened the drawer to put the socks away, I found a bra I’d stuck in there that had a broken underwire. I wore a bra out to the point that the underwire broke, and I KEPT IT TO REPAIR IT. Well, clearly that was absurd, because where was I going to get the right size of underwire? (You’re thinking, “And more to the point, why repair a worn-out bra?” But some of you do understand, at least, this truth: a good bra is hard to find. Maybe even harder than a good man.)
So I did the logical thing: I cut out the remaining unbroken underwire, cut the label off the bra so I would know which bra it came from, taped the label to the good underwire, and put it with my sewing findings. I have two more bras like this one, and if one of their underwires is the next to go, I’ll be set.
I didn’t cut off and keep the hooks from the back strap, because they were looking a little worn, and I’m not crazy.