Four years of being each other’s SOS, and subsequent rebounds when the other had been dreadfully dumped, he and I decided to try and be a “real” couple. Weekdays would be spent at our respective homes, while weekends were booked with his late night gigs as a drummer and me tagging along for support (which usually meant me sitting around at a bar, smoky or otherwise, on the sidelines watching everyone else get drunk). Long story short, this arrangement didn’t last long. Being a single mom of two didn’t give me much down time and spending my precious weekends sitting at a bar mostly sober while listening to music I really didn’t care for and watching 20-somethings drink themselves into oblivion soon got extremely tiresome. I started some silly fight over something barely worth remembering and that was the last weekend he stayed over. While doing the laundry later that week, I made two of the most wonderful discoveries! Johnny Cash and Fatal T-Shirts, sized XXL. They make the best pajamas!
PS: I’m not sure if he realizes they’re missing. It’s been a year and I never plan on letting him know where they’ve been all this time. Did I say that? Oops!