Well, it was time. It was way past time to go through my lingerie drawer aka the drawer stuffed full of wholly unholy holey unmentionables.

As I sorted and made stacks of what to keep, what to sack, I tried to imagine that Cindy Crawford was giving me fashion advice. The stack of stuff that didn’t pass Cindy’s approval was growing.

Some of it really needed to go. I was never going to wear it anyway, but I guess I have an irrational fear that the washing machine might quit, and the electricity might go out, or the well won’t work. . . and I might run out of clean underwear after a few  . . . months. Desperate times call for desperate underwear. And you’re never too desperate to wear ugly underwear — if that’s all that’s left in the drawer.

Anyway, after making a stack, I had to decide what to do with it.

You can’t give it to Good Will after all. And I really don’t want my unmentionables to come back to haunt me from the rag bin. I can just picture the plumber holding out his hairy burly hand from under the sink, and grunting, “Hey, can someone hand me a rag?” and an impish kid handing him — Agh!!

But, I have a hard time just throwing away perfectly useful albeit perfectly awful stuff.

What if there is another Great Depression? My daughter is always predicting that the ninety-year cycle of economic depression is fast approaching. In the event of a Great Depression, it could come in handy and I might be thankful for a surplus supply.

But I don’t intend to store intimate apparel for fifty years just in case there is a depression. Can you imagine me at ninety, trying to explain to my descendants, who are trying to pack me up for the nursing home, why grandma was storing five crates of lingerie?

So, I get a trash bag, and stuff them in quick because I hear Marc coming. He wanders in and asks curiously, “What are you hiding under there?”  I sheepishly stall. . . “Under where?”

Then I just admit it. “Okay. You caught me. I’m just bagging up my depression underwear.” Somehow saying it out loud gave it a whole new level of pathetic.

No one needs depression underwear. It’s just too — depressing.

So, what are you doing with your depression underwear? It’s time to let it go. Some things should not see the light of day . . . ever. Smuggle them out to the curb (double bag them – you don’t need any ex-wardrobe malfunctions), and go buy yourself some new undies!

Your husband will appreciate it.

And you won’t ever have to worry about the depression of the old saggy, baggy unmentionables again!

It is incredibly invigorating and uplifting to have some new lingerie!

So, with Valentines Day fast approaching, do yourself (and you husband) a favor and restock your lingerie drawer!

*Saturday Grapevine is a time for wives to reflect on marital intimacy, and to tend their grapevines — a euphemism taken from the Song of Solomon for marital intimacy and satisfaction.