Who Gives A Shit: Dirty Little Secrets of the Work-At-Home Crowd?

Now I know that there are benefits of working from home but I found something out yesterday so appalling that I've decided to break with my limited anti-embarrassment clause to bring it to your attention this fine morning. For the record, yes, those Christmas boxers ARE clean.

So here's how it went down. 

After several hours spent ineffectually multi-tasking in my frenzied attempt to vacuum, clean, cook, scrub the fish tank and the toilet, pack, fold eight loads of laundry, download Fantastic Mr. Fox and the seminal film Hot Tub Time Machine from itunes rental movies, make road mixes, etc while the pashas watched my progress from the couch, we finally blew the popsicle stand that is Brooklyn for our July 4th getaway weekend.

In quick order, Pasha One complained that he couldn't see for the window glare. All we could find handy to shade his special little eyes was, you got it, the boxers. No sooner had we crossed over into the city when two women in the car next to us waved for us to open our windows, asking if we were hanging our undies out to dry or there was some other reason for them being hung in the window. We were like the Beverly Hillbillies coming out of countrified BK, where CRAZY RICH urbanites apparently buy weekend homes to hang at the Meier building in bucolic splendour.

I'm getting to the work-at-home part. Bear with me. 

So, all this joviality prompted the disclosure of something I've long suspected but had not fully confirmed. My husband sometimes does not change his underwear for DAYS. He said his record is five days and he had, in fact, gone three the weekend before during the baseball tournament (in 500 degree weather and 100 percent humidity). It was so bad, he laughed, that he'd thrown the boxer briefs out rather than risk my finding them in the laundry basket.

I get that he's not a metrosexual type of dude but WHAT THE FUCK? It's not like he doesn't have clean ones in the drawer. Do I not have enough on my hands getting the little pashas to bathe regularly and change their underwear. Must I now embarrass the old man into a little personal hygeine too.

As a point of reference, we arrived at our country kingdom to discover a moat had been installed in our absence. And yes, my manly man has spent the morning in our new moat installing a new septic hook-up to the city pipe thingamabobby. You can imagine what this entails.

So, I know a few of the closely-held secrets of telecommuters. The Law and Order episodes. The procrastination. Now, the dirty underwear. But I'm getting a whiff that this is just the tip of the iceberg.

Come on, fess up, you work-at-homies. Give us some more dirt! What else are we missing??