Today I had a T-shirt-related meltdown. Frankly, I know I've had a good cry coming for days (last night I started crying while watching M*A*S*H) and this afternoon it absolutely erupted.
See, I lost my Princess Sparkle shirt, my absolute favoritest T-shirt ever, the lilac one with the My Little Pony on it. I was devastated. I could not find it. I ripped through the laundry, upheaved the apartment, and was seriously freaking out, thinking I'd accidentally thrown it away or lost it in the laundromat weeks ago.
My poor mother had, once again, to pick up the pieces via a phone call in which I was bawling. Bravely, she tried talking me through the places it could be, and I hung up with a renewed interest in looking and trying to stop crying.
You have to understand that my mother is amazing at finding things...so am I, but not when it's my own stuff. I can find stuff for anyone else, but when it came to finding something in my room, the calm head of my mother always prevailed.
And then I found the shirt. In a place I'd already looked, which is typical. My mother always found my stuff in places I'd already searched. I stopped crying immediately.
I don't know if this makes me immature or if I was responding to something else and therefore disproportionately upset, but let's just say if I'd really lost that shirt I would consider it a bad, bad turn. I shudder to think.
Princess Sparkle, don't ever leave me again!