“If I whistle, maybe it will come crawling to me.” I laughed to my husband.
My sweatshirt. Well, it’s not really a sweatshirt per se... it’s more like a hoodie, but it doesn’t have a hood or a zipper. And it’s much longer than a hoodie. It comes down to my butt.
It’s got a funny little collar and buttons. Though it’s lost some buttons...
I think I bought it in 1989. That would make it... almost 22 years old.
I can’t give it up. In winter it’s like my security blanket... at least around the house. It’s the first thing I reach for when I take my coat off, or when I change from my work clothes.
And I hate when I mis-place it. Gotta teach it to come when I whistle...
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Scary when we realize some of our clothes are older than most people.
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