I received a call from the drycleaners yesterday. They said my shirt is ready for pick up. I assumed they had mistaken me for someone who wears clothing that needs to be dry cleaned…FACT: I work in radio – no one can see me – I prefer it that way and my entire wardrobe consists of comfort threads. No ties and certainly no slacks.
They assured me it was mine and that I dropped it off in 2019…OMG, “Is it white, long-sleeved”?, I asked. “Yes, sir,” she said.
Now I recall: I did in fact drop the shirt off after my wife and I separated. It was a time when my appointment book was filled with engagements such as ‘sell the house’, ‘move’, ‘divorce’, ‘pandemic’, ‘stay alive’. Ya know, run-of-the-mill everyday entries on your average to-do list.
Before I admitted ownership, I asked if there were any storage or late fees and I was assured there were none. Just three dollars and forty cents for cleaning and for holding my shirt for 3 years. Not a bad deal.
When asked when I had intended on retrieving the shirt my reply was, “soon…probably Monday…no rush, I waited this long.”
The shirt was the last thing on my mind and now, it seems as though I will be reacquainted with a garment from a happier gentler time.
Side note: I sensed a tinge of attitude due to my late (to say the least) arrival. I almost started to feel bad but it’s not the same or as serious as being an absentee father or forgetting to pick up the kids from school, don’t be so judgmental, Lady!
Hope it still fits. Look at the date on the receipt in the picture. Makes me smile for some reason.