I cleaned out my closest last weekend. I also cleaned out the boys’ closets, and I politely insisted that my husband clean out his, too. And I helped him. He might argue about my use of the word “help.” But I really do feel like I did him a great service, standing at the threshold of his closet, shaking my head as he held up one shirt after another. He drew the line at the 1981 Foghat concert t-shirt. That one went back into the closet, instead of into the bag bound for Goodwill. Maybe next t...
Published on November 10, 2013 08:00