The great thing about being home in quarantine is you have time to clean your drawers.
I can’t close any of my drawers anymore because they are stuffed. So I tried to go through them, but gave up.
Not because I’m lazy, though I am.
Because I realized I am looking at my life.
My drawers are my own personal Smithsonian.
And I bet mine look like yours, only messier.
For example, I have thongs in my underwear drawer.
All of them, about 30 years old.
What was I thinking?
Bungee cords are not panties.
I never wear them, now that I have returned to sanity.
But can I throw them away?
They cost a fortune.
And they tell a story.
Thongs, never worn.
And I have a bra drawer stuffed with ancient bras, but only one that’s wearable.
I used to call it my Good Bra, but I can’t anymore, since its cups dimple in the middle, like little frowns.
And now that I’m home, I’m not bothering with a bra anymore. I have tank tops that supposedly have a bra built in, which offers no support. It’s just permission to go without a bra when the FedEx guy knocks.
See, I’m wearing a bra tank. Or a tank bra. Does it really matter?
He takes a look, throws up, and leaves.
My pajama drawer doesn’t close because it has flannel nightgowns, which I will never part with even though they take up so much space.
Who doesn’t love a great flannel nightgown?
I only wear one of them but I’m not getting rid of the others. They reek of coziness, safety, and security.
They meet my emotional needs.
I also have a nightshirt that says “I Sleep With Dogs”, with a matching pillowcase that says “I Sleep With Dogs.”
Get the idea?
I have three drawers full of T-shirts. None of the drawers close, so I leave them open. Once, the cat got behind the drawer and emerged from the T-shirts, terrifying Francesca and me.
If you can’t find your cat in your drawer, you need to clean.
You know that expression “Been there, Done that, Got the T-shirt”?
I leave no T-shirt behind.
I have my T-shirt from Lower Merion Girls’ Tennis Team, which reads “Net Profit” on the back.
Also, I thought of the slogan.
So it’s a vintage T-shirt, and I myself am authentically vintage.
I have a T-shirt from Penn Crew that has an oar, since I was a member of Penn’s first women crew.
It was the last time I was physically active.
There are T-shirts from concerts, and I’ve only been to concerts of two bands.
I have three Steely Dan T-shirts from three separate concerts. And now that we have lost Walter Becker, I wear them in his honor.
I’ve also been to Rolling Stones concerts, and every middle-aged woman needs a tongue-out T-shirt.
I have approximately 12 Eagles T-shirts, three from the Super Bowl victory. I still can’t believe we won the Super Bowl. I remember watching Bradley Cooper in the skybox, raising his arms and saying, “We did it!”
I swear to God he said it at the same moment I did, which is like a simultaneous orgasm for Eagles fans.
Speaking of that, I have an array of Bradley Cooper T-shirts, which were gifts. You know you have great friends when they indulge your sexual fantasies.
Wait, that came out wrong.
My favorite one says “Mrs. Bradley Cooper.”
For him I would change my last name and my first name.
And then I have T-shirts from bookstores, which I wear proudly. One from Mysterious Galaxy in San Diego says “EAT. SLEEP. READ.”
Another, from Murder by the Book in Houston is actually made for the pandemic. It says: “STAY HOME, STAY SAFE, READ GOOD BOOKS!”
And “APPRECIATING LOCKED ROOMS SINCE 1980.”
And that’s not even my only pandemic T-shirt.
My best is from the Philadelphia Fire Department, which I bought to support them. The front reads Social Distancing Works, and on the back is a caution sign that says:
“KEEP BACK SIX FEET.”
Unless you’re Bradley.