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Five Days In Paris Spent Wearing The Same Shirt
Not Worth Dwelling On
My youngest niece has a stuffed bunny that has been all over the world. She at least used to take it everywhere, and it has seen sights I can only aspire to. I have a gray polo shirt that is rapidly catching up due to some lost luggage on the first leg of our European vacation.
My wife, Carol, was in a similar predicament because she had no more access to clothing than I did. She was layered up when we arrived and, thru Black Girl Magic, made it look like she had several outfits when it was all some variation of the one. Let the record reflect that we hand-washed clothing every night and started each day fresh and clean, smelling slightly of the hand soap offered in our hotel. The record should reflect that Carol kept suggesting we buy new clothing. I insisted our bags would surely arrive that day and, in my defense, knew our bags were quite full, and we didn’t have room for extra clothing.
My gray polo shirt saw the Arc de Triomphe in Paris (after an incredibly long walk along the Champs-Elysees).
