The shirt was old, and the sleeves had been cut off. I hate sleeve-cut-off shirts, not all of them, but certainly the ones that leave more hole than shirt. And this one was having a hard time calling itself a shirt any more.
I decided long ago that as the matriarch of the home and washer of the clothes that I have the prerogative to throw away clothes that I don't like. And I do.
I recognized this be-noted shirt as one that had been thrown away and fished back out more than once. The note read,
"Please don't throw me away Mom. I may be a rag, but I'm a very good friend of _____'s, and I'm quite certain he'd miss me.
With Love, Green Rag"
I couldn't help but laugh, and I gave Green Rag a final spin around the wash tub. The 'very good friend' of Green Rag later asked about the fate of his buddy and begged me to please not send him to the trash again. I promised not to toss him if he promised to stay well concealed from the general public.
I also promised that if certain conditions are not adhered to our next laundry letter could well be an obituary via the Wood Stove Gazette.