Bearing in mind the trauma from our Saturday adventure, for Ariah’s nighttime prayer she said, “Please bless daddy that he won’t get hurt. And please bless Andrew and his friends that they won’t kill daddy.”
Teresa and I are attacking the mounds of clutter in our house. I was throwing away a plastic scrubber, giving it a sentimental eulogy, prepping it for the slow and painful death that awaited it at the garbage dump. Teresa commented that it’s an inanimate thing and that I need not get sentimental, that the Valentine Rabbit, the Brave Little Toaster, and Toy Story have indoctrinated us with damnable heresies. I wonder if she’s right. In fact, I wonder if a sentimental attachment to inanimate things, thinking we’ll offend them by expunging them, is the largest cause of clutter.