We stopped for the night in Columbia and decided to spend some time at Columbia’s version of Turkey Creek so that I could replace the clothing item that vanished somewhere between the laundry basket and the suitcase. Sarah thought shopping with me would be more fun than younger sibling duties at the cookie store. An 60-something woman walked up to a store employee and began complaining in a completely frustrated voice. “Where can I find men’s underwear? Not thongs or boxers or anything with a pouch, just normal underpants.” Sarah began snickering and turning different shades of pink. The older woman went off on her quest with new directions from the clerk. “What’s the matter Sarah? Is the word underwear that embarrassing?” Sarah’s face turned crimson and she fell apart laughing so hard that tears flowed down her face. The clerk grinned from earlobe to earlobe. I wandered through the women’s lingerie department and Sarah trailed behind me with a steady stream of complaints. “Almost everything is white or yucky tan. Where’s the polka dots or stripes? This is the boring department.” I tried to explain about clothes not concealing bright colors, but Sarah didn’t really want an explanation. She just wanted to be contrary. I went in the dressing room and Sarah suddenly decided she would prefer to be chasing her younger siblings than in the dressing room with her mother. A few minutes later I was at the checkout waiting for the well dressed man buying underwear with his wife’s credit card for the prostitute in the store with him. It was just as well that Sarah missed that theater of the absurd. Even the store employee was embarrassed. Doug called me as I was paying the clerk. “Why did Sarah get embarrassed? How does she get underwear?” I explained that Sarah is visited by the underwear fairy whenever she needs bras or undies. They magically appear on her dresser and the undesired items are plopped on my desk to be returned to the store. I think that the underwear fairy just quit.