I don't get it. I never have and I don't think I ever will.
I'm not talking about the finer sex (although my above statement holds true for them too). I'm talking about my t-shirts. What gives? It's perfectly acceptable for socks to disappear in the dryer, but t-shirts? They're supposed to stick around, through short and fat and tall, through thick and thin and rain and snow and ice.
Unfortunately, life is not a cheesy Mormon play/movie soundtrack. I have shirts that I think have eloped with socks. I only know this because the sock's mates are mad. They want the socks back and I want the shirts back. I think we're close to a deal.
Where do these shirts go? Heaven only knows because I can't find them. A song came to mind (surprise, surprise) while I was scouring my closet for a shirt the other day, but I've had to change the lyrics a bit. Nirvana did it originally and I first heard it my freshman year of high school. It's not a song I hear a lot, but somehow it draws me in. It goes a little something like this:
Where do bad folks go when they die?
They don't go to heaven where the angels fly
They go to a lake of fire and fry
Don't see them again 'til the fourth of July
Kinda sad/depressing/dark lyrics, so I changed them a bit. The new lyrics go to the same tune (in case you don't know the tune, click here for some help - you'll have to wait until about the 0:34 mark for the tune).
Where do my shirts go when they hide?
They don't go in the closet to hang in line
They go to a place, deep dark and dim
And make me spend hours looking for them.
I thought I had a good relationship with my shirts. Couple a favorite shirt with a pair of favorite blue jeans and you are set for a good day. I can't think of a good reason why my shirts would leave me. I shower daily and wear deodorant - what else could they want?
I'm begging you, shirts - come back. Please don't make me clean my room.