While, I was walking towards my car in the parking lot with my co-worker, she asked me a question which altered my day, the question was, how many shirts do you have? My response was, umm I do not know. Then she suggested, I should buy only disposable shirts as in the last 9 months she has never seen me wearing any shirt twice. Well, that is so not true, I bet she has seen me wearing same shirts twice, thrice and many more times. After that her next sentence was, she is jealous of me and I give her a complex and all my shirts are very nice and gave a few extra compliments about my clothes.
This small conversation with her shook me a little. As a result, after I got home I opened my both closets of my bed room and stared at my striking assortment of shirts, and smiled widely till my face started aching. Then an evil idea came to my mind, I started separating the shirts I have never wore at work in last 9 months or so. And to my surprise the figure crossed 5, when I was only counting full sleeve shirts, then it crossed 10 after I added my half sleeves in that list of never wore shirts at work.
Then I spent about 10 minutes figuring out, should I consider my Ts in this list or not, after all they are shirts, as it is called T-Shirt. After debating with my self for about 10 minutes I decided to go ahead and count the Ts as well. The figure then reached at 20 something. I got this satisfaction that I am going to wear these never previously wore shirts/Ts at work and make sure "she" sees them all.
Now just to give an example of how low, a materialistic man (YOUNG MAN) can get. After I was done with this little mischief of mine, another bug bit me, I wanted to know, how many shirts I have. I opened my wardrobes again and started staring and thinking about how and where to start.
I started counting 5, 10, 20 and figure ended at 40 something. I was like IS THAT IT! Then I decided to consider my decent Ts in that collection. I started again and this time, I was at 60 something but still not satisfied. My heart was pumping like I just came home from a marathon. I ended up counting every single T, which I would never even consider wearing outside my apt. Now, I have this respectful figure of 70 something.
I took a long breath with a satisfied/dissatisfied mind, wasn’t sure if I should be proud of my shirt count or what. I was exhausted, tired because of this mind boggling exercise of counting, recounting and recountingS. Then I realized, I missed out the shirts which are lying on floor, bed and on ironing board. To make things worse I also realized that I didn’t check my two full laundry baskets which are ready to be laundered.
I have had enough till this point of time. I made a commitment to myself, to do my laundry this weekend, clean my room and place all the shirts back in the closet and then COUNT THEM all.
After that I got peace of my mind and I was a happy camper.