I’m tired of managing clothes like a side hustle. The buying, the tracking, the waiting for packages, the hit of dopamine when something arrives, the satisfaction of “getting a deal,” and then the slow burn of realizing I now have to steward this item with my actual life. Laundry. Storage. Outfit decisions. Closet organization. Mental inventory. It all adds up to decision fatigue I never signed up for, and stress that feels wildly disproportionate to a pair of pants.

At some point, God made it clear: this isn’t about clothes. It’s about attention.