Retired and Expired

While doing laundry today I got to thinking about how sentimental a man’s wardrobe really is to him. When my husband moved into my closet after Lyric was born, we needed to thin out the copious amounts of clothing he was holding onto.  I got a couple of garbage bags and told him that we needed to go through what was hanging in Lyric’s closet plus the five dresser drawers, two duffel bags, and three garbage bags at the bottom of  the closet.   As I began to sift through the wreckage and dispose of old worn out shirts and sweat pants, my husband went through an innumerable amount of emotions.  First he was distraught when I tried to toss his piranha eaten Dukes of Hazard t-shirt that he has had FOREVER.  He was beside himself that I would consider throwing out four of the eight pair of sweat pants all covered in paint.  “What if I need to paint something?” he argued.  He became sentimental at times especially when I grabbed a hold of his ten year old billiards team shirt that didn’t have a zipper any more.  In fact, today I hung up four shirts that had no zippers.  He frantically dove after many items such as the track pants with a rip all the way up the leg that commemorated the time he slid to home plate and injured his knee.  He needed all fifty six pairs of socks, even the ones with holes in them because he “doubles up on cold days!” He became defensive and resentful, thumbing through my wardrobe threatening to toss a few items.  In the end forty two t-shirts, two Tilley Hotel sweatshirts, five zip up “hoodies” with no zippers, a hundred and twelve socks (Zeppelin has put a good dent in those), a few windbreaker shorts, and three Toronto Maple Leaf hats made the cut. He currently wears the first ten shirts hanging where his clothes meet my clothes and the rest are retired into his Wardrobe Hall of Fame I suppose.
Follow along in all I say at  grOundBlogdaY