In my bedroom, apparently, is a wormhole or some portal into another dimension. Over the past week, all of my son Sam’s dirty underwear and all of Boolie’s deedees (pacifiers) have disappeared from my bedroom into, apparently, nowhere. Now, Boolie has been known to stash things in odd places — but the complete disappearance of Sam’s underwear is a deep, deep mystery.

Every day he changes his underwear in my bedroom, which for convenience’s sake is the central location for all changing and showering activities at our house. Every day he tosses them in the hamper. And every last pair has disappeared. Simultaneously, Boolie’s deedees, which cost $4.39 per pair and of which we have purchased a thousand in the past two years (you do the math), have all vanished but for two. Probably someday we will find a stash of 500 when Boolie has long outgrown them, but meanwhile you absolutely do not want to confront this girl in the dead of night when she wants a deedee and you can’t produce one.

We are about to leave on our annual vacation tomorrow morning. We’ll be returning to Lawrence Welk Resort in northern San Diego County, which admittedly is in the middle of geographic nowhere. But the kids like it. We can’t go with no deedees, and Sam cannot freeball it the entire week. Therefore, this morning it was incumbent upon me to go to Target and purchase:

• Six deedees (which won’t be enough, but which cost me $13).
• Twelve pairs of underwear for Sam.
• A giant poolside coverup thingy for me to wear.

We’ve got a ton of packing to do, and I’m hoping we won’t forget anything crucial like the boys’ swim trunks, sunscreen, or one of the kids. Meanwhile, I’ll be off the screen for the duration. (If you’re planning to come rob our house while we’re gone, I would discourage this because my daughter and her giant husband, as well as the Basenjis, will be housesitting. Plus our shit isn’t worth stealing. I guarantee you can get a better TV from any one of our neighbors.)

Have a nice week, and keep a close eye on your underwear.