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 seems 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 being retired puts 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 that it should be visible from space.

So I look 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 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 turn 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!”

Silence…

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 girl stuff.

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

I hate shaving, especially on vacation.

“I lost my razor.”

“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.