Old Friends

I saw a lot of old friends the last two days. They were not human but my spring and summer clothes which I exchanged for my winter clothes, although it may have been a bit premature considering the cool temperatures.

Some I had forgotten like the red dress with the uneven hem and the matching jacket, but I was looking forward to seeing the blue Pakistani two-piece pants and tunic.

I washed them. I listened to two discs of Notre Dame de Paris as I ironed. Frollo cursed being in love with Esmeralda as I finished my blue and white provincial skirt. As she pined for Phoebus I ironed my floral pants. Quasimodo, Phoebus and Frollo all sang about her beauty as I steamed creases into my white pants.

Instead of a chore, it became a pleasant day, even more so, because as I filled my closet in category then rainbow order, I realized that I was indeed lucky. I have more then enough of clothes that I love, that I don’t need to buy anything new this year.