That thrilling moment when you discover that the shorts hubby bought with the college son (while you were chilling elsewhere) are actually reversible -- does it get any better than that? The last time the term "reversible" entered my consciousness arrived courtesy of Robert Wagner, extolling the virtues of reversible mortgages on TV. I didn't understand it then. I don't understand it now. But reversible shorts, I totally get. Two shorts for the price of one? That's cause for celebration.
It's the little things in life that make the SJG happy. And the fact that neither hubby nor the college son knew the shorts were reversible? Even better. Something else to lord over them? I'll take it. It all came out in the pre-wash. I turned the shorts inside out, like any good Jewish laundress should, and went a little bit loopy with glee. "Oh, dear God in heaven! These shorts are reversible!" I said. "Can you eff'n believe these shorts are reversible?" "That's great, Ma," the shorts owner said. "How many more times you gonna say it?" "I think I'm done." Then I said it a few more times. I think it's out of my system now. Maybe.
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