I don’t really think of myself as a guy with a lot of clothes. My wife would probably argue with that, but I don’t think that is fair. See, she is tiny. At least compared to me. Naturally it follows that her clothes on a per unit basis take up less space. I’m talking elf versus ogre.
But even though I might not think that I have too many clothes I do have more than I need. I figure I really only need no more than ten of any item. Socks are obviously counted by the pair and might get a little flex for winter socks versus summer socks.
And I have no problem throwing away torn up socks or underwear. I’ve almost gotten to the point I enjoy it. Throwing away am old pair means a new pair. I’m talking socks of course so no need to start imagining anything other than feet.
But t-shirts is where I get into a little trouble and for two reasons. First is that on some level I think items hold on to memories. I don’t think they are alive or anything, but I think they gain a sort of power. Combine that feeling with my basically being the same height and size since late elementary school and that makes for some old shirts.
Some I know I should toss. They have holes not only under the arms but along the neck. For some that neck ring is basically two pieces all the way around. They should get tossed. But those shorts have some serious power. My Super Mario Brothers the Movie shirt Mike gave me in college. Or the Pearl Jam shirt Marilyn gave me in high school. Or you know those rad 80s jet shirts that looked so cool because they seemed to be designed with a hi-tech drafting program? I’ve still got one of the b-52 bomber. Not only does it have the power of being with me since elementary school somehow (probably got disregard for several years) but it has been my camp pajama shirt for the past two summers.
So I stare into my dresser and think I need to reduce and simplify. But every shirt holds a memory of the past and of people I rarely get to see anymore. And I wonder, maybe I should just get a larger dresser.
Deadly Troubadour 