I, Jaffle McSnaffle, have too many shirts. Way too many. An embarrassingly large number.
As I was ironing this evening, I realised that I'd run out of coathangers, and my wardrobe was full, and there were still a bunch of shirts unironed.
So I counted them. And then I counted them again. And then - just to be sure - I counted them a third time. It didn't get any less. There were sixteen shirts every time.
Sixteen. Man, and that's not including one evening shirt, one casual shirt, three short-sleeved shirts, or the two I ordered a couple of weeks ago. *ahem*
Let me explain. For those that don't know, I am self-employed and run my own business. This means I can pretty much wear what I want to work - and it's usually jeans and a T-shirt. Exactly why I need sixteen shirts when I don't *have* to wear them is beyond me. I mean, sure I'll wear them when I go out, but I'd have to be out every night for two weeks before I'd need to think about washing them again.
So, having come to the realisation that I have a problem, it's time to own up to it.
But what to do? After I'd counted the shirts for the third time, and still arrived at the same number, I nearly recycled two randomly-selected shirts straight away in sheer panic.
That will never do. Such random behaviour can only lead to madness. Instead, I've decided to sleep on it, and see if I can come up with a better plan.