At some point last week I began a garment-specific version of the Countdown. While getting dressed in the morning I found myself thinking, “This is the last time I will need to work Suit A into the rotation.” Then B, then C, and so on and so on until all days are casual and I make one last visit to the dry cleaners to have the suits cleaned and packed away like an expensive bridal gown from a doomed marriage.
Not that any of my suits are either literally or symbolically white. This wasn’t my first trip to the altar of commerce, and I doubt it will be my last.
Which is why I’m having my suits cleaned rather than burned.