Once upon a time, there was a crafty girl who, while browsing listlessly on the internet, bewailed her lack of materials to work with.
Then, lo and behold — Yahoo chimed! An email from her Freecycle group provided the answer. A lady was discarding 7 big bags of children’s and adult’s clothing. Her daughter had succumbed to a skin allergy, thus, her doctor ordered that all synthetic fabrics be banished from her household.
The crafty girl wrote her a polite email and the lady responded quite amiably. She said, “Come and pick them up”.
So picked them up, the crafty girl did. At the lady’s house, seven huge black bags of clothes did greet her. She thanked the lady profusely and carried them off to her home.
Immediately, excitedly, she opened the first bag.
Hmmm… what is that smell? Wondered she. But she blamed the trash bags for the odorl (for they do smell a little even when new).
One by one, she pulled out the clothes. For every one good item, she cast away several. Some were full of lint or worn to bits. That’s ok, she thought. They wear their clothes until they no longer can. Many of the children’s clothes were stained so badly even Goodwill would reject them. That’s ok, she thought. Happy kids play and get dirty. That is a good thing.
Then she pulled out another one and almost screamed.
Dried up snot all over the front of a little shirt.
She should have stopped right there, but she couldn’t. It was as if the clothes called out to her from the depths of the bags: Release us! Release us!
She put on gloves and went on.
She spied a crisp cotton shirt and pulled it out. How cute, she thought. Until she turned it over. The front was yellow.
She nearly fainted. The bag tipped over and clothes upon clothes poured out. Among them, more clothes with dried snot, dried up banana skins, and a shoe with dried poop on the sole.
The last straw: several dirty women’s undies. Unwashed horror she can’t describe here.
It was then that her beau, the dashing B., came to her and asked if she needed help. The girl, stopped him in his tracks.
“Don’t come any closer!” She didn’t want him to see and smell the horror her eyes and nose have witnessed and smelt. “I don’t want you to see this mess!”
He froze in his tracks with mouth agape. “Why? What’s wrong?”
The girl told him of the stains and the snot but left out the peed-on shirt, the poopy shoe, and the soiled underwear.
Said he, “I think her daughter’s isn’t allergic to synthetic fibers. Her skin is reacting to slovenliness!”
She couldn’t help but nod her head.
They agreed to give the clean clothes to Goodwill and throw out the ones that cannot be salvaged. Out of seven bags, the girl kept a few items for projects but made sure they were laundered twice, treated with Chlorox.
Before the night of horror ended, the girl cleaned up and picked up a tube that must have fallen from one of the bags:
A curious thing. What could it be, thought she.
And the moral of the story is... let me get my bearings and I'll tell you in the next post.