The Three Hole Rule

I first learned the Three Hole Rule when Himself and I were first married. I was folding laundry and noticed there a hole in a pair of his briefs. I was about to toss them in the trash.

“What are you doing?”

“Your underwear has a hole in them, I’m tossing them out.”

“You can’t toss them out! They’re still good.”

“But there’s a hole.”

“It’s just a little hole. You only get rid of holey underwear if there are three holes or one really big hole.”

The Three Hole Rule.

I was talking to Ma to the other day.

“I’ll need you to get me some elastic,” she said.

Elastic. Sounded like a mending job.

“What do you need elastic for?”

“I have to fix the elastic on my bloomahs.”

“But I just bought you a dozen pair.”

“Oh, I know. Those are good ones. I’ve set them aside.”

Aside? For what? A trousseau?

“The ones I have,” she continued. “Are still good. They don’t have any holes. The elastic is just stretched out.”

Himself must have told Ma The Three Hole Rule. I don't ever remember her telling me. Maybe I just never paid attention.