THE SECRET LIFE OF INANIMATE OBJECTS |
I consider myself to be more observant than average, and these premises are based strictly on things I have noted.
WIRE COAT HANGERS
(The following does not apply to plastic, plastic coated, or cloth covered hangers.)
There are two types of wire coat hangers: Type A are extremely prolific. They engage in wild mating frenzies in the dark corners of your closet, often getting themselves entangled into Gordian Knots. They reproduce at a frantic rate. Type B are cannibalistic.
The perfect friendship between two women is for one to own Type A hangers and the other to own Type B. When it reaches the point where the lady who owns Type A hangers cannot close her closet door because the hangers are all falling out, and the lady who owns Type B cannot do her laundry because she won't have enough hangers to put the clean clothes away, a simple exchange of types can solve the problem and solidify the friendship.
(It must be noted before closing this section, that both types are mutable and can revert to the other type, a factor that no one has ever been able to explain.)
PENCILS AND PENS
Try this experiment: Put two full length yellow pencils in a drawer and don't open that drawer for six weeks. When you do open the drawer at the end of that time, here is what you will find: The two pencils will have bred, giving you 37 pencils. (The number may vary.) Because of the time period, they will be in various stages of development--some full grown, some mere infants. The two yellow pencils will have produced offspring of various colors. Some may even have different colored lead. The genetics of pencils is still being studied.
Next put two pens (ballpoints are best for this study) in the drawer and repeat the experiment. At the end of the time, open the drawer. What will you find? If lucky, one pen. More likely, none at all. Pens are not only sterile, they have wanderlust.
TUPPERWARE
I'm starting with the theory that, like me, you have one whole cupboard devoted to Tupperware. I'm also assuming that you have initially arranged these containers with the larger ones on the bottom and the smaller ones nested on top. Forget that! Tupperware has a pecking order that you are powerless to overcome. No matter how many times you put the large pieces on the bottom, they will have re-located themselves to the top of the heap by the next time you open the cupboard door.
For some reason unknown to science, Tupperware containers abhor their lids and avoid contact with them at all costs. Trying to keep the two together is a lost cause.
LARGE ELECTRICAL APPLIANCES
Everyone is aware that washing machines have the reputation for devouring socks. I can honestly report that mine did this only once. The sock escaped only as far as the pump, resulting in an expensive repair. (And to make matters worse, the sock belonged to someone who had done laundry while visiting us on vacation.)
This same washer did, however, give birth to a pair of white cotton socks at a time when no one in our family owned these items.
I can vouch for the fact that , as they age, large electrical appliances can become senile. My twenty-four old refrigerator (that's 110 in human years) suffered from the delusion that it had become a freezer, a condition it maintained until it died of old age a year later.
VENDING MACHINES
BEWARE OF VENDING MACHINES! They are vindictive and dangerous! They have actually been known to kill people they thought had abused them by shaking them. A six foot tall machine loaded with soft drink cans or foodstuffs falling on a person becomes a more than adequate fatal weapon.
At the school where I taught for many years, we had a Coke machine that dispensed pull-out bottles for a fifteen cents each.
Whatever had caused the machine to despise Mrs. T, had obviously happened before I got there, but that the machine hated her was undeniable. Other people could put in whatever amount of money they happened to have and the machine would release their cokes. From Mrs. T, the machine always DEMANDED correct change. Once she had rounded up the required nickel and dime and deposited them in the machine, it would refuse to release her drink. After awhile she simply gave up trying to deal with this machine and just handed her money to someone else and asked this person to get her a bottle of Coke.
Mrs. T retired and the aged machine stopped working altogether. It was replaced with a sparkling new machine that dropped its cans of drinks. During very first year of its use, this machine refused to release the can Mrs. O had just paid for. She then made a huge error in judgement: she kicked the machine! From that day on, until she left the school for greener pastures, the new machine always shook up Mrs. O's drink. Other people bought drinks all day and never had one spew, but Mrs. O's can of pop seemed to explode with vigor, spraying her always fashionable clothing with brown spots that were almost impossible to remove at work. I can only hope that as she moved on to new locations Mrs. O learned not to kick vending machines.
Inanimate objects DO have their own secret lives. Only those of us who are observant enough ever discover those secrets …