I embraced this reality tonight. As I was carrying trash out to our garage, I found that my husband had lovingly bagged some trash that resulted from him cleaning the garage. (I know; two mythical happenings all wrapped up in one beautiful black trash bag!) I digress…in any event, as I looked at this beautiful bag, I noted that it hadn’t been tied, and as I went to tie it, a sweet little white plastic hanger fell out onto the floor.
Much to my dismay, the bag was full of store-bought plastic hangers. Green and blue and white, ones with notches cut out so my sleeveless items wouldn’t slide off, plastic pant hangers with metal clips, and even some from my favorite clothing store (I am one of those “do you mind if I keep the hanger” people.) Imagine my horror as I began impulsively pulling the hangers from their untimely graveyard, and daintily hanging them by my dryer.
I stood back and smiled at the display - neatly hanging from the rack, organized by ‘with notches’ and without, pants or shirts. It is important to note that no metal hangers were rescued during this mission. They tried to escape by angrily latching on my precious plastics, forming a precarious hanger tree, one hanging on the other, hanging on the other, hanging on the other, but they were not spared. “Into the trash with you” I loudly and victoriously proclaimed in my best “Caesar of Rome” voice, my fist raised high in disdain. And away they went. As I proceeded to give the beauties a purpose to their lives by hanging my freshly dried laundry, it hit me…I have a strange adoration of a peculiar object.
(August 9. 2009.)
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