I Can’t Help It! Blame My Mother and Cartoonists!

Orange peels have feelings.

My Mother told me that when, as a child, I threw some out the car window while going through I-don’t-know-where Montana on our way to Detroit to see my grandparents.

“Poor orange peels, out there a-l-l-l-l-l-l-l a-l-o-o-o-o-o-n-e. In the DARK. Afraid. Cold. Lost.”

And I believed her.

And animators give life to EVERYTHING! Inanimate objects have feelings, too. You’ve seen Toy Story, right???? See what I mean??

It’s insane. I know.

You will think I’m crazy and you may be right. But it’s not my fault!

I will share a story with you, but you can’t tell anyone else.

Agreed?

Promise?

We went to St Vinnie’s Fine Furnishings & Apparel yesterday. (St Vincent dePaul to you, I suppose) And in my wanderings up and down the aisles of unnwanted this and thats, I found a ceramic/plaster cat who looked at me with the saddest eyes. “Nobody wants me. Will you take me home?”

How could I refuse?

I imagine all these discarded creatures shoved together on shelf after shelf, waiting for someone to love them enough to take them home, and it breaks my heart!

God help me if I pick something up to look at and then put it back.

It’s just cruel! The false hope of a new loving home.

I picked up five matching bowls. One had a small chip. When the girl at the register called my attention to the cracked bowl and asked if I still wanted it, I said, with a perfectly straight face, “The other bowls didn’t want me to leave it behind.”

See? 

But once you’re convinced that orange peels have feelings….you pretty much have no hope of regaining any semblance of sanity.

So, the discarded cat now has a home and loving family. The expression on his face has not changed, but I’m SURE he is happy. Or maybe it’s a she? Who knows. Who cares?

It’s not normal. I’M not normal.

The same thing applies to picture frames and clothing too, I guess, because I spent a bit of money that day.

My husband just shook his head. “This one has a crack,” he announced. He wouldn’t understand, so I didn’t bother telling him how happy the cat was to be going home with us either.

And, yes, I kiss my teddy bear goodnight, too.

I’ve been cursed with an overactive imagination.

Gee, thanks Mom.

By the way, I NEVER threw anything out the car window again. My lesson in why you shouldn’t litter.