Here’s one for ya:
I’m doing the laundry. Again. And as I’m pulling clothes out of the dryer, (clothes, which by the way, were so stinkin’ hot, I burned my hand on a zipper. Zipper…. What a great word!) I found one very, very clean rock that looked suspiciously like the gravel in our driveway. My Critter has a zealous affinity for collecting rocks. I also pulled out a now empty tube of Chapstick in the same load of laundry. Pink-Lemonade Flavored….which immediately absolved Troy, much to his relief.
I had to chuckle.
Then I thought about how different the things I find in my dryer are now. When I was a child, I would find my newly cleaned stuffed animal’s detached nose or eye. When I was a teen, I’d find that note I’d been passed in class about the boy who I loved who didn’t even know I was on this planet. In my twenties, I’d find the stub to a rock concert or movie. In my thirties I’d find pacifiers. And now, in my forties, I find gravel and chapstick.
I’m looking forward to my fifties. I don’t know what will come out of that contraption by then. But I can tell you what won’t come out of it. All the left footed socks that have mysteriously disappeared in there over the years. I’ve given up hope for them.