We’ve turned a corner, people, folks, and we’re not turning back. And as I find myself on the verge of getting married, and I find myself having to use Google to remember Kirk Hammett’s name, and I find myself having to stop and think and count on my fingers to remember how old I am (true story! happened just before I wrote this sentence!), and I find myself having zero idea how old my fiancée is (she doesn’t know, either), and I find myself checking my work and realizing I’m 31½, and I find myself taking an interest in cooking and eating onions sometimes now, and I find myself wishing we owned this place so I could replace the mailbox and put a deadbolt on the front door, and I find myself not the least bit interested in watching that movie Saw about the horrible clown-masked sadist making people do horrible things or else his clever contraption will rip their jaws off — i.e., something that would’ve made me flush with schoolgirlish zeal back in high school — and I find myself wishing this buzzy synthy M83 album would just quiet down a little bit … well, it’s become very clear that we’ve turned a corner, and so here’s what’s going to happen next:

White, long-sleeved, button-down shirt, and black slacks. That’s it. That is my wardrobe for the rest of my life. That’s all you’re going to see me in, and some people might say: “Ew gross me out the door that dude wears the same clothes every day he is probably an A-1 nutboy.” But the fact is I will have dozens of identical shirts and slacks, and they will be clean and maybe pressed every day. OK maybe not pressed. And anyway I will continue to use Old Spice. And my closet will be purged of the awful Old Navy plaid patterns and the khakis and the jeans which always seem to develop holes right in the crotch (I swear, this is a lifelong problem I’ve had and I’m just going to have to chalk it up to restless genitals) and the purple t-shirts and the t-shirts with swears on them, and all you’ll see is a tidy, crazy-person row of white shirts and black slacks.

I already started down this path by buying a number of plain white undershirts and pounds of identical white socks (so I don’t have to sort them post-laundering), but obviously I’ve turned a corner and now it’s time to go whole hog.