The Shirts

The first thing I see when I wake up on a weekday is a line of shirts hanging on my bedroom mantle. R irons his shirts for work on Sunday nights and hangs them there so they stay wrinkle free. Now normally, such a sight would drive the obsessive-compulsive organizer in me to shout expletives from the rooftops and head for the nearest Target for behind-the-door hooks, but instead I find that I look forward to waking up to my own personal weekend countdown.

Today is a 4 shirts left day. My least favorite of all of the days. Slowly but surely though, the number gets shorter until those lovely 1 shirt and 0 shirt days come. Until Sunday night, when the stock gets replenished and the count starts all over again.

These little things are exactly what my life was missing when I was single.