I have stacks and stacks of t-shirts. More than I could ever wear, and it seems like they must be multiplying on their own. My wife wants me to get rid of them. At first, I thought they were too important as mementos and souvenirs: of frisbee teams, of concerts, of whatever. I’ve started to think she might be right, because I don’t wear very many of them very much at all.

I got a new t-shirt last Sunday. Bright yellow. Text on it from an organization I haven’t got much connection to. It says “Special Olympics Volunteer”.
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