Buying life’s necessities is best approached with an open wallet

Pat Grime copy.jpg

Living on my own for the first time in ages, I've had to face a few day-to-day necessities. For instance, I recently purchased bedding.

My parents took care of making sure there were sheets for slumbering when I was young, and their largess continued into my early adult life — sheets were often a gift received from dear old Mom and Dad. For the last quarter century, my spouse purchased the bed clothes. And when setting up my new home, I opted for the unbeatable value of a local resale shop to cover the mattress.

Living on my own for the first time in ages, I've had to face a few day-to-day necessities. For instance, I recently purchased bedding.

My parents took care of making sure there were sheets for slumbering when I was young, and their largess continued into my early adult life — sheets were often a gift received from dear old Mom and Dad. For the last quarter century, my spouse purchased the bed clothes. And when setting up my new home, I opted for the unbeatable value of a local resale shop to cover the mattress.

But with out-of-town guests coming to stay with me, new sheets were in order. Ambling into a major retailer, I quickly became slack-jawed. My sheltered existence had not prepared me for prices and thread counts so high. My gosh, do people really spend $60 and $70 on sheet sets?

Seeking other options, I walked into another national chain store. There I was shocked to note celebrity-endorsed sheet sets that run beyond $200. Great Caesar salad! That's half of what the mattress cost.

I’ll never make a comparative review of high price-point bedding versus the more moderately appraised stuff, because I'm too cheap to spend that kind of money. But then I encountered a similar price disparity in another essential commodity that provided my subject of study: underwear.

Establishment A offered a name brand package with four pairs of boxer briefs for $15. Establishment B proposed another familiar name plate’s similar four pairs for $38. Was there something about the second product that made them worth more than twice the first? Whipping out a credit card, I bought materials for my investigation.

A weeklong study has yielded inconclusive results. Brand F and Brand H have both performed up to optimistic expectations. Equally tagless, both have delivered comfort and promoted general harmony among the various undercarriage elements in the nether regions. Waistbands F & H have proven equally easy on my expanding waistline, and neither product has shown any propensity to go riding up the legs… or anyplace worse.

Clearly, more research is needed. How will these products perform over time? Will the uplifting support I currently enjoy below the equator from both brands diminish as temperatures and humidity rise? Will the specificity of their elasticity weaken with the ongoing stresses of corralling my abdomen? Will overall performance wither when next these undies get into a bunch? I will continue to gather data.

Please know, your correspondent will gladly conduct other comparative studies in the public interest. Should you wish to know the relative merits of flying business-class versus first, please send your airline vouchers to me in care of this paper. Likewise, if you're uncertain as to the advantages of one yacht as opposed to another, contact me with directions to the marina.

And should you crave more definitive conclusions on price to comfort ratios for sheets, bundle up that Oscar de la Snobby set and send it my way. I won't rest until I have answers for you, but first I'll have to sleep on it.

Pat Grimes, a former South Bay resident, writes from Ypsilanti, Mich. He can be reached at pgwriter@inbox.com.