I spent most of the weekend cleaning out closets -- or technically, distributing the contents of closets all over my living room in preparation for the tedious business of sorting, discarding, and re-closeting -- and buried in the bottom of a box of family papers and miscellaneous letters, I found a collection of t-shirts that I was apparently saving for the Apocalypse.
I moved into this apartment in 1999, and I'm assuming I packed them then, and immediately forgot about their existence. So if you see someone walking around New York in a practically pristine Clinton-Gore inauguration t-shirt from 1993, that would be me.
No comments:
Post a Comment