Path of pandemic finally reaches clothes closet

A casualty of the pandemic turns out to be some of my clothes. Well, most

A casualty of the pandemic turns out to be some of my clothes.

Well, most of my clothes. Actually, all my clothes, not counting half a dozen T-shirts and those comfortable, not-quite-flannel garments called “lounging pants.”

Everything else in my closet can go, probably should and likely will, if I continue down the ruthless path I’m on. The pants I once might have described as “work clothes” were first into the toss pile. Never all that comfortable, they now feel like two tubes of boiled cardboard connected at the top with an unidentifiable scratchy material. Besides, my work clothes now are the aforementioned T-shirts and lounging pants with holes and bleach stains.

On top of the pants, I’m piling shirts, blouses, tanks and random garments whose only fashion statement is “clearance rack.” This will empty my closet of tops, as the T-shirts already in rotation are kept in my dresser drawers.

Speaking of my dresser drawers, I saw a video the other day of a Japanese subway train so packed with passengers, with more trying to board that attendants were pushing people onto the train with all their strength before laboring to close the doors over protruding body parts. My dresser drawers are just like that, minus the human hips and elbows. Everything is crammed together willy-nilly, and brute force must be applied to put away the clean laundry. As long as I can shut the drawer with nothing hanging out, I’m satisfied.

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