The Life of a Shirt

A single article of clothing has quite the adventurous life in my house. Let’s take one of Grace’s shirts, for example. How about her Hello Kitty shirt? 

Hello Kitty is sleeping peacefully in Grace’s dresser, second drawer from the top. The night before, she was carefully folded and gently placed inside the drawer alongside other shirts of similar color. (Grace’s mom likes to organize clothes by color. It gives her a sense of control and order amidst the everyday chaos.) Sounds of Grace’s mom singing “I Lived in Heaven” and “Braham’s Lullaby” soothing her to sleep. (The same two songs every night.)

Suddenly Hello Kitty is awakened by a loud cry of, “NO! THAT ONE BUGS ME!” It’s Grace. Sometimes she says, “The tag is itchy,” or “It doesn’t look good,” or “Why can’t I just wear pajamas?!” Then Hello Kitty sees a bright light. And a small hand reaches into her drawer and begins to shuffle everything around. Now Hello Kitty is next to the brown monkey shirt who she thinks is obnoxious. Finally, Hello Kitty is snatched out of the drawer and stretched over a little blonde head that smells like “Cowabunga Coconut.” After a bit of a struggle, Hello Kitty is finally situated properly around Grace’s small torso.

For the next hour or so, Hello Kitty is steadily abused, poor thing. Yanked by Jacob. Splashed with milk and Honey Bunches of Oats. Used as a tissue to wipe Grace’s nose. Then without warning, she is yanked off and tossed on the ground in the hallway with various other items of clothing. Then comes the waiting.

First Hello Kitty waits for Grace’s mom to see her and holler, “Grace! You left your shirt on the floor again! Please come pick it up!” Grace picks her up, carries her to another room and drops her on the floor again. With more dirty cloths and a wet towel. Throughout the rest of the day Hello Kitty is ignored, neglected, stepped on, and occasionally tossed here and there. She spends the night on the floor.

The next morning, after being stepped on a few more times, Grace’s mom finally comes in the room and picks up a damp Hello Kitty off the floor. (Spending the night squished up against a wet towel has its consequences.) She carries her out the door and drops her in the blue side of the laundry basket. She waits there for another hour or so. Finally she’s tossed into the washing machine with the rest of the darks. After a rigorous bath and a nauseating spin cycle, Hello Kitty waits in the cold, dark washing machine. She and the other clothes around her start to smell after a couple hours. Finally, she is tossed into the dryer. She gets heat stroke and multiple concussions from her experience there.

It takes another couple of hours for Grace’s mom to come take her out of the dryer. She’s carried into the master bedroom and dumped on the bed. She waits there patiently all day long only to be pushed on the floor in a heap of clean clothes, towels, and sheets. The next morning Hello kitty is scooped up and tossed back on the bed. Later she is sorted out and set aside with Grace’s other clothes. Unfortunately, she still gets shoved off the bed again that night. It’s the same story the next day. On the bed in the morning. Off the bed at night. At last, after two more rounds Hello Kitty is folded and placed in Grace’s dresser, second drawer from the top.

The end.