Why My Life is Better Than Yours
Every day, people I barely know stop me on the street and ask me... They say, "Malott, your life is obviously better than mine. Can you tell me why?" Usually I just push them out of my way, especially if they're old, female, and feeble.
But there are times when I take a moment and try to pass on a tiny bit of perfection to those less worthy.
This is one of those times.
Reason #9: I have a clothesline.
When I was growing up clotheslines were found everywhere in the neighborhood, and on summer afternoons they were regularly populated with sheets, pillow slips, and the familiar clothing my friends wore. Some had fancy clothespin bags, while some mothers just made-do by stuffing their apron pockets full of clothespins.
I have two kinds of clothespins.
I'm sure there was a clothespin manufacturer in America when I was a boy. But now they would be made in China. And they would be plastic.
Last Monday mine was probably the only property in town that had bedsheets on the line, billowing in the warm breeze. And when I went to bed that night, I'm pretty sure I was lying between the best smelling sheets in town.
But I guess people like you will just have to suffer with Downy, Snuggle, and other pathetic substitutes for excellence.
I hope this little peek into... what it's like to be me... brought a moment of sunlight to your dark little world. I hope it added a scintilla of joy to your meager and pointless life.