A Day in the Life of a Ball State T-Shirt

I’ve been in this drawer for a week now. Sometimes it opens and I get moved out of the way only to see one of the other shirts be chosen. It’s getting pretty dark in here – the drawer, that is. I’d rather stay in here nice, clean, and folded than go into those wretched spin machines again. Today, however, the hand picked me. That definitely doesn’t mean I get to leave the apartment, though. I am put on and taken off only to be put on again because this indecisive being can’t make up their tiny mind on what to wear. Personally, I think I look the best, but I am biased. Today, though, the being agreed and I get to leave the apartment.

As a T-shirt, you never know where your being is going. I’ve been to a horrid place with a bunch of wet, smelly T-shirts and tired people, but I’ve also been to a lovely place that reminded me of my young adulthood – tons of other Ball State shirts unwrinkled and hung up, excited for the life that awaits them. Today, it seems like my being is going to be talked at for hours. This isn’t the worst day since I can usually see some old friends of mine in passing; however, it is hot today which inevitably means the dreaded ~pit stains~.

After being talked at for what seems like 8 hours, my being takes me to a brick building that smells really good. A tray is pushed up against me, and my being puts lots of greasy food on it. My hope today is that not too many crumbs and grease get on me; however, this hope is always pointless. My being drops many nasty, greasy crumbs on me all of which they wipe off, yet a stain is still left on my heart. Why can’t my being just wear a bib?

After the crumbs, my being sometimes goes to yet another brick building to either write or sit in front of a bright screen. Today, though, it decided to go back to the apartment to sit in front of a bigger bright screen. This is one of my favorite parts of the day because sometimes the other beings in the apartment are wearing my friends and will sit next to me. I really don’t understand why my being finds the bright screen so entertaining, but sometimes we will sit in front of it for the rest of the day.

After my being is FINALLY done with the bright screen, we head back into its bedroom, and I know the day is coming to a close. I am taken off, crumpled up, and thrown into a pile on top of a wad of other clothes. Although I am happy to be back in more familiar territory, I know that after awhile, this pile of clothes will be moved to the most wicked place a T-shirt could imagine going. The spin machine.