De Ce Monde Secret de l’ Amelie Americaine

I procrastinated all day, until I realized that I had zero pairs of clean underwear. I gathered my whites together. I would only force myself to do one load. I was determined to do as little as possible. I blame it on the World Cup final, France vs Italy, how could I miss it. I found a non-air-conditioned laundrymat with the game playing on the television. $3.50 for a load of wash, and 5.95 for a smoothie to keep me hydrated. Nothing about life is cheap anymore.

An hour later, France and Italy were tied, and I was retrieving my newly clean clothes from the dryer. Now comes the sorting process. Certain articles of clothing will not survive the “inspection”. Either they are too stained and tattered or they have strunk, and resemble baby clothes.

The first victim, a white H&M shirt that I paid $7 for, but wore for five years. I wore it with jeans and heels to my first real job in New York. Farewell my fond friend, you served me well.

The second, a tube top that was once grey seven years ago, but now is an off beige. I wore it under any sheer shirts that couldn’t be worn alone. I bought it before going to Hawaii with significant other #1. The shirt lasted longer than our relationship, but was now unraveling at the seams. Au revoir.

I am on a roll. It was time to start anew. I had to let go of these pieces of the past. I geared myself up for the biggies. The next t-shirt was stained in several places but was one of my favorites, I wore it underneath a loose knit sweater the first time I met David’s parents. We broke up a month and a half later. I remembered the words he said about the “distance being hard” and how he was interested in someone on his softball team. Better luck next time.

And then I spyed, the final piece I was ready to be rid of, a shirt I wore three summers ago when I spent the night helping a friend finish his video. I found myself falling in love despite severe reservations. My instincts ended up being correct, but I couldn’t help myself. The shirt wasn’t stained, but I was ready to let it go, finally. Bittersweet but necessary.
In the end game it turned out to be a much harder day for France as I watched them lose the World Cup during the penalty kicks.

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