My closet is bursting!

No more room in my bedroom dresser drawers!

I can't keep a count of all my shirts. I am not bragging, but there are shirts I can't remember getting. It seems they are multiplying on the hanger and reproducing while lying in the dresser. In blue shirts alone, I have four or five of exactly the same color shade that my wife claims "You look good in that color."

Making a decision on which shirt to wear has become a problem, with no obvious solution. Somehow, I manage to choose a shirt that my beautiful wife, Lorraine disapproves of. I get dressed then undressed after she sees what I have selected. "It doesn't match!" is her favorite term.

When my birthday, Father's Day or my wedding anniversary arrives, I can be assured that more shirts will be added to my already vast collection.

Golf shirts are crammed so deep that they pop out at me like a Jack-in-the-Box from my shirt drawer. I approach that spot with great caution.

The beautifully wrapped, thin boxes are a sure tip-off that I am receiving another shirt. Dress shirts, short leeved summer shirts, golf shirts are all sitting in the box and saying, "Here I am, just what you need!" "Another shirt." I am not ungrateful, but I just can't show the same enthusiasm when confronted by another shirt.

There are so many other areas that I am deficient in. Such as:

a) I could really use a good baseball glove. I can't find my old Tony Oliva mitt and a new glove would make me ecstatic;

b) My old basketball is getting a bit worn and has lost its bounce;

c) I haven't had a real football in my closet for years. Every man should have his own football;

d) A box of expensive cigars would be wonderful, but Lorraine would never let me get near them; and

e) A bottle of my favorite gin or vodka would be a treat but I know realistically there is no chance of receiving that.

Well, I guess I will just have to accept the shirts graciously and smile feebly when opening the package. Shirts, Shirts, Shirts!

I am pleading - "No More Shirts, Please!"