My Lost Shirt

13938549012215I lost my favorite t-shirt.

The thing is, since we are traveling in our little RV, there are a limited number of places to lose something.

Besides, it seemed like I just set it down.

This phenomenon of just setting something down and then not being able to find it is becoming more and more frequent. So much so that at times I fear I am losing my mind. Maybe I am.

Mental acuity is one of those use or lose it things and retirement has put me way out there on the lose it spectrum.

I have no idea how I could have lost my t-shirt. It is not like it is hard to spot. The thing is a bright road-safety yellow.  So bright in fact, that it is probably visible from space.

So I looked around. Maybe I did something radical like folding it and putting it away after it came out of the laundry. So I checked the overhead storage in our tiny bedroom and looked inside the single drawer that I am allotted.

Nothing was there… at least nothing bright yellow.

Next I searched the bins on the outside of the camper. It is where I keep my tools and store things like water hoses, spare parts and stuff I want to hide from my wife.

I am not sure why I checked those bins for a shirt, but one must be thorough. If I were at home, I would be poking around my shed right about now.

You never know.

So where could it be?

Having run out of rational explanations, I turned to irrational explanations.

“Did you throw out my yellow t-shirt?”

“No,” my wife said, “I didn’t, but I should have. It’s too short on you and when you raise your arms….well, it’s embarrassing.”

“But I love that shirt. It’s cool and it has a pocket, and…”

“You can wear it when you’re working, but not for anything else.”

“Did you hide it?”

Without a word, she went back to doing what she was doing.

“You did hide it!”


Now I knew where it was. I have my hiding places and she has hers. And yes, there it was stuffed in the little compartment in the bathroom where she keeps her lady stuff.

“While you are in the bathroom,” she said, “why don’t you shave?”

I hate shaving, especially on vacation.

“I lost my razor,” I told her.

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

“It’s in the compartment where you keep your tools.”

Now how did she know that?


Note: we are still on the road and access to the internet is limited, therefore my commenting on this blog and others will be limited.

Author: Almost Iowa

19 thoughts on “My Lost Shirt”

  1. I, too, am partial to a shirt (or a polo or a t-shirt) with a breast pocket. I’ve never put anything in said pocket but HEY IT’S A POCKET! Hoping that your shirt is returned safe from captivity.

  2. I have favorite t-shirts that I wear to garden in until the fabric starts to deteriorate. It’s a thing. Maybe we need a support group. You can be president, Dan will be vice president, and I’ll be secretary. 🙂 Keep traveling, keep having a good time.

  3. In my tiny living/travel space, I periodically lose items. Such as my spare camera battery. If for some reason, I have to alter my usual routine, it results in me thinking I’ve lost the plot and dementia is just around the corner when I lose things.
    Then they turn up again. Fred dog claims immunity, therefore it must be the cats.😀
    If the shirt is a little short add a hem of fabric, glued or stapled😉

  4. In the lab environment, there are people who know where things are and people who don’t. Those who don’t know where things are think the knowers are magic.

    I like that.

  5. You story reminded me of my wife’s constant refrain that I have ‘selective hearing’
    when I never got around to doing things she asked me to do.
    However it did not deter her one iota from that same refrain
    on the day I finally got my hearing aide.

  6. I want to see a photo of you wearing the shirt – I could then make a better judgment about whether this shirt needs to vanish. 🙂

  7. Wives. We’re wily creatures.
    I have a crate for my husband’s “you’re not wearing that in public” clothes. I designate them work duds but every once in a while he tries to go out to dinner in them.
    Silly man.

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