Summary: When some people get down or discouraged, they drink. Other people turn to pain pills. Other people to cigarettes. Other people to drugs. Other people to food. Other people to religion. Me, I turn to shopping. And, more specifically, clothes. I may have a little clothes problem. I realized this last week when I opened the door to my apartment after a morning run and was suddenly hit with the stench of six week's worth of stinky underwear. Sitting in my closet, were three laundry hampers, all heaping two or three feet above the tops of them. In those hampers were shirts, and pants, and socks, and underwear. But not just any shirts. Regular shirts, yes. But gym shirts, too. And not just jeans, but gym shorts and warmup pants. And, gulp... not just underwear... but lots and lots of sweat-soaked gym underwear. The smell of it all made me literally gag in my doorway. Why I hadn't smelled it to that point, and why it suddenly hit me so strongly, is a mystery in and of itself. But it did. And it was strong. I would liken the smell to sticking your entire head into a linebacker's navel. Thankfully the Farmer's Daughter wasn't coming around for a couple days. Time enough to do my laundry and let it air out. When I was done washing and drying the laundry (minus the bedding and towels), this is the pile of clothes that I had to put away. Please note that those pillows in the back are FIVE pillows tall. Not two. I don't know if you can really grasp how much laundry that is since it's all stacked so neatly. So, I counted it out for you: Six sweatshirts. Four pairs of sweatpants. Sixteen gym shirts. Eight pairs of gym shorts. Eight gym pants. 57 pairs of socks. Nine button down shirts. 34 t-shirts. Five tank tops or sleeveless shirts. 11 pairs of jeans. 17 under shirts. Two bathing suits. 52 pairs of underwear. Two pairs of pajama pants. Two baseball caps. It had been at least six weeks since the last time I did laundry. And you would think I was out of clothes. Oh, no. I still had the following clean and ready to go in my closet: 47 shirts of different varieties. Eight hoodies. Four pair of sweat pants. Nine dress shirts. Five pairs of slacks. 20 gym shirts. Seven pair of gym shorts. Eight pair of gym pants. 14 pair of jeans. Two bathing suits. 41 pairs of shoes, boots, and other footwear. Three dress coats. Two rash guards. Six pair of manpris. 18 pair of shorts. Nine sweaters. One suit. Six weeks, and I still had all that that I could have worn. I think it's time I say the words aloud... CONTINUED ON NEXT PAGE CONTINUED FROM PREVIOUS PAGE I'm Dan, and I'm a clothesaholic. After I put all my clothes away I snapped a few pics inside my closet. That doesn't even count all my drawers filled with clothes. Or my coat racks. Or the two bags of winter clothes I just stored in the storage unit. Now, I could sit here and try and rationalize my wardrobe. I have shoes for every occasion, indoor and outdoor. I have clothes for the same reason. I've basically worn the exact same size of clothes for eight years now, so of course the collection is going to get ridiculously big. But, it's not true. I'm a clothesaholic. And I'm okay with that. I like new clothes. I just need to wash them more often so that the Farmer's Daughter never has to smell that kind of stank. She'd be two counties over before I even took a second whiff. Now, who wants to go shopping with me? Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing PS. Comments please? Dare I ask if anyone's closet is as bad as mine?
