"I'm sick of washing it by hand!" I mutter, yanking it off the hanger. "I always have to iron it, too. And it still looks wrinkled no matter how hard I try! I'm sick of shirts. Period."

"You're not one to just throw something away, to give up on it," Mom said when I told her I'd found a different one that looked just as nice (but am sick of shirts, regardless). "Besides, other shirts have different problems. You just haven't worn that one yet."

"I suppose," I answered, sizing up both shirts.