From time to time a word will pop into my head. It is usually a well worn word, that has seen decades of hard use. The word will appear before my mind, transformed by a softer, more distant light. It will lure me into a state of wonder, as its meaning strikes an unfamiliar pose, as if I’ve come upon it, as a stranger in a strange land might.
I’ve not really thought about the word before. It is a word that I learned early in my foray into language, used daily as ablutions neared successful completion.
It is a charming little word, don’t you think? Pants that are worn under overpants. Overpants, not a word I’ve ever heard or used. But underpants, these little pieces of fabric, have their own word. Their presence, hidden as it is behind a veil of outer fabrics, is recognized, and honoured with a moniker.
Underpants. The word puts me in mind of a Carl Larrson painting, Mamma’s and the small girls’ room, watercolor, 1897.
Date: 4:00 PM EDT Monday 26 August 2019
Condition: Partly Cloudy
Pressure: 102.1 kPa
Dew point: 11.5°C
Wind: SSW 7 km/h
Visibility: 24 km
“It’s the good girls who keep diaries; the bad girls never have the time.”
1903 – 1968
Well!! There’s me sorted.