Tomorrows Laundry
I own too many T-shirts. Hand-me-downs, concert tees, jerseys, novelty finds from Goodwill, shirts from breweries, shirts enthusiastically fired out of cannons, shirts ironically or earnestly supporting a political candidate, shirts that I have no memory of acquiring in the first place. I find it difficult to part with T-shirts for some reason, awakening my latent hoarder tendencies as I fabricate reasons to keep dozens of them buried in the bottom of a dresser drawer. When I find a shirt that’s way too big, or has a 3-year-old stain on it, or has found some other reason to fall out of rotation, I’ll earnestly tell my wife, “I should save this for when I paint.” I don’t paint. I don’t know the last time I’ve painted (walls, watercolors, anything) and I certainly have no shortage of T-shirts I could wear for such an endeavor.