The Free T-Shirt

Joey likes funky t-shirts. A lot.

I was coming in from my car last night, walking quick enough so as to get home as soon as possible, but not so fast as to get one of my heels caught in a crack and fall to my death, when I noticed something brown laying on the ground cover a few doors down from our apartment.

Brown, cotton and t-shirt shaped.

I gingerly picked it up. It was most definitely a t-shirt. It had a very soft feel to it and I could not determine if that was because it was designed to be soft cotton, or if it was dirty.

I took a whiff; it was super dirty. Smelled like sweat.

While attempting to have as little contact as possible with smelly, sweaty, soft brown shirt, I shook it out to have a look at the picture on the front. (And also to determine what size the shirt was.)

The picture was a darker brown and light blue, and it's definitely supposed to be something, but I don't know what. There were some old-timey words written on it, but honestly I didn't look too closely. I tried to glance in the collar to see what size it was, but this proved to be too much actual skin contact with the shirt.

I wadded the shirt up and carried it into the house with me.

"What do you think of this shirt?" I asked Joey, laying it against the couch.

"It's COOL!" Joey said enthusiastically, noting that it was his size.

"Well, don't touch it. I found it on the ground outside and it's really smelly and dirty. But I'll wash it for you and then it'll be as good as new." I threw it in the hamper where it belonged.

"You found it outside?"

I explained to him where and how I'd found the shirt. He seemed kind of proud of me.

And that's how you know when you're in Seminary. When you take dirty t-shirts off the ground outside your apartment building (come on, it's totally litter...) and give them to your husband as a sort of gift.