It Shouldn’t Matter

I’ve lost a shirt. It’s not an important shirt (yes, it seems I rank my shirts in order of importance – who knew?), nor was it expensive. In fact, it was a tank top that I bought in France when my luggage went walk-about, and which British Air paid for. So technically, it is a free shirt.

But it irks me that I can’t find it. It used to irk me if and when this happened in Milton, but at least then I had several dressers, at least three closets, a laundry room, and even basement shelves with luggage on them for clothes to end up in. Eventually I found things.

I definitely have seen it here at home since my last trip south, and it’s not like I’ve been having a wild social life, arriving home in the morning after a night of pub-crawling, bits of underclothes stuffed into my purse. So I feel safe in saying I haven’t left it in anyone’s home. I do remember in my twenties, when my little Chevette didn’t have A/C, I was in the habit of slipping my pantihose off in the Bank’s parking lot before getting into rush hour traffic on a hot summer’s day, but the temperature here still hasn’t hit 16°, so I’m keeping clothes on, not taking them off. I did try on a pair of shoes at Begg’s on the high street last month, but I usually keep my shirt on when trying on shoes.

I doubt that one of my neighbours peeked over the hedge, saw a royal blue tank top and thought, “I just have to have that”, before slipping though the shrubs and snatching it off the line.

Scout wouldn’t have taken it; she likes to carry my socks around in her mouth, but only socks. I only have one dresser, two closets, a rail of fall & winter coats, and a laundry hamper. Where on earth could it be?

I know it shouldn’t matter; it was free, I wasn’t all that fond of it, and I do have other tank tops, but it just bugs me. The search continues.