"Do I have any clean underwear?" says Magoo.
I stare at him for a moment and wonder how it is possible that he would think
that he lives in a world where he would have no clean underwear.
How did this irrational fear develop?
Why is his drawer so full that I can't stuff another pair of his man undies in there if I tried?
Oh, how I've tried.
I cleaned out his drawers and tossed out the oldies...the meltdown wasn't pretty.
Obviously the trauma was too much.
How can I expect him to feel safe and secure in his world with only 62 pairs to his name?
I have found the answer.
This amuses me to no end. Him, not so much.
If you also have a hubby with this disorder, you can find these thru Archie McPhee.
I'm ordering our friend Siggy for him, too.
The ONLY action figure that peers into the depths of your subconscious.
Time for an intervention.