I have a t-shirt problem. I love them and always wear one or more a day for sleeping, exercising, or formal attire. Once I started going places, I’d buy a t-shirt to remember the trips, or concerts, or shops, that I enjoyed. I always planned to make a t-shirt quilt and saved my favorites for that project.

They have accumulated, box upon box, enough to make quilts for my entire extended family. Which I considered doing. As time passed, that project lost its luster.

Lately, I have been moving the t-shirts out to seek their forever homes. Some for nieces and nephews who say they are “cool.” Some for my friends’ rummage sales. Others go to the thrift store. Recently, I discovered a local “vintage clothing boutique,” a new outlet for my collection.

What happens, though, when you collect something and friends and family know you do, is they begin to “help” you. This year already I’ve received two Beatles shirts, another spangly Barbie one, and just last weekend, the shirt I’m wearing now. I take this as a sign that I should really make that quilt.