I cannot find my underpants.
The day before yesterday, I was opening up the boxes I shipped to myself and upon opening a smallish one, I discovered I accidentally shipped a box of old magazines* to myself. These were supposed to go into storage.
In the meantime, I could not — and still cannot — find my underpants. Any of them.
Clearly, a box of magazines got mixed up with a box of underpants. Now all my underpants are in a storage unit in Chicago, while I am in an airport in New York, headed to St. Louis, with a box of magazines back at the apartment across town.
I’m good.