My "Plus One"

I'm packing. It's late. I have to get up very early because that's how my family books flights. Stopovers galore.
Anyway, I'm choosing the most colorful socks that I have, and I'm sifting through t-shirts.
T-shirts are easily the most important part of my wardrobe because they cover up my ridiculous shoulder hair.
Okay, so I'm trying to decide on t-shirts, and I pass by Pia. Very special shirt for me. She's been through thick and thin with me, this shirt. She has survived a thousand washes.
She's also the only t-shirt I own which I refer to by gender.
"Where's Pia?"
"She's in the dryer."
And so on.
I glance at her, and decide to pass her over because I should bring along some new shirts instead.
Then, I think to myself, "Brother's wedding, family event, Pia has to be there."
Then I say "You're goddamned right," to no one.
Then I pack the shirt that I just felt actual emotion for.
I think I need someone to dote affection on, or, at the very least, a pet...