Beware of all enterprises that require new clothes...

I think I might have a ghost living in my closet.

A fashionable, clothes hoarding ghost.

It started with one shirt, this past fall.  It was an orange shirt in early September, on sale from Jcrew.  It was worn by yours truly exactly once, receiving a compliment or two on its debut.  After that? It has simply never been seen again.  I've checked drawers, the bottom of my laundry hamper, my gym bag multiple times.  Nothing.  I have zero idea where that shirt  went.

So, okay.  That's kind of an annoyance, - it was such a great color - but a fluke, right?  A one time deal, rather random kind of thing, right?

Except for the fact that I also can't find a pair of navy lounge/sweatpants I know that I own, a pair I know I did not donate when doing a "soft clothes" purge a few months ago. Of course, all of the usual hiding places have been searched, of course all of them have turned up exactly nothing.

Then!  This morning, in get ready for work mode, I opened my closet door to reach for one of my trusty black sweater dresses.  And...it's suddenly missing too.  What the?  I swear I opened and shut that closet door three times in thirty minutes, somehow sure that the next time I opened it, my dress would appear where it was supposed to be.  Where I am positive I hung it up just the other week.

Without roommates, I don't have an automatic scapegoat; I can't blame my missing items on the fact that they'd borrowed my clothes without asking.  And while yes, sometimes, I do ask my female cat outloud for her opinion on an outfit, she never answers me.  So I'm highly doubtful that she ran off with these garments. Now where the devil are they?

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While we're on the subject of clothes, I feel the need to confess something.  A truth that's actually a source of pride...and maybe a slight source of embarrassment.

I haven't done any laundry since January 25th.  And I actually don't plan on doing any until I get down to NJ to visit my Dad and his fabulous washer and dryer later this month. (My Dad is fabulous too, obviously.)  The pile of "to wash" I have to load in my car for that trip is kind of insane.  (That's the embarrassing part.)  However, I have yet to run out of towels, sheets, or - the real kicker - underwear.  For those of you playing along at home that means I have approximately 60 pairs of underwear.  (Pride.)  It should go without saying that some of those 60 pieces are way - way - more flattering than others but still.  Two + months of no laundry?  I kind of, sort of, have to pat myself on the back for that one.

I mentioned this phenomenon to a friend today and she looked at me startled.  "Wouldn't you run out of clothes?" she asked.  I laughed. "Oh God no.  It never even crossed my mind that I'd run out of outfits."

Which...probably means I'm a bit of an over-consumer.

And...it's likely I need to do another purge when it's time for spring cleaning.

Or...maybe I'm just really good at mixing and matching, scoring deals, and buying things I don't tire of too easily?

Yeah.  Let's go with choice C on that one.

But please don't tell the closet ghost.  I don't want her getting any more ideas.