It took a series of text messages, a home watch company, a multi-part chain of custody and more than five months, but I have now been reunited with three shirts that for a short time threatened my sanity.
In June, I went on vacation in Naples, Fla., where I stayed at my aunt’s house. Two weeks later, I did some laundry and afterward noticed an empty hanger on the left side of my closet. A maroon polo shirt was supposed to go there, right next to the orange one of the same style.
I double-checked the dryer, the washing machine, the space in between them and behind, but didn’t find the shirt. Back in the closet I searched every nook where it could have fallen — nothing. I dragged out the suitcase I had taken to Florida, opened every pocket, and still found nothing. Checks of my roommate’s closet, the guest bedroom, under my bed and at least three repeats of all of the above still resulted in no shirt.
If you know me at all, you’re probably aware that I’m ridiculously organized. I don’t lose anything. Ever.
I asked my then-former, now-current roommate (don’t ask, long story) if he had maybe borrowed it one night when he was staying with us. No dice. I searched the closet one more time, this round focusing on the right side (yes, there’s a system involved) and noticed two more empty hangers.
WAIT. WHAT SHIRTS ARE THOSE?!……..FLORIDA!!!!!
It all came back to me. When I arrived down there and unpacked, I hung up those three shirts in the closet — none of which I wore while I was there.
After my revelation, I texted my aunt, explaining how I was driving myself crazy looking and asked if she could check the closet the next time she was at the house.
“Don’t go nuts,” she said. “Don’t need more nuts in the family!!”
So true. Concerned for my sanity, she sent someone over to look, and sure enough the shirts were hanging right where I left them.
Flash forward to last weekend in New Jersey, where we were visiting for Thanksgiving. I walked into my grandparents’ house and was immediately handed my shirts.
Sanity fully intact.