Five years wasted
For at least five years, I hung onto a two-foot strip of Velcro that I’d somehow acquired. I have no idea where it came from, but I figured, “Hey, free Velcro,” and kept it in my life. The strip survived at least one move. It’s a fighter.
At points, it seemed like I came in contact with this particular segment of Velcro so regularly that it became part of my day-to-day life.
“Why, hello, friend,” you could occasionally hear me remark to the Velcro. “How are you this fine day?”
I had no real need for it, and knew that Velcro was readily available for purchase should such a real need arise, but still I kept it just in case.
But last night, when I needed approximately two feet of Velcro for perhaps the first time in…ever, where was that old friend? NOWHERE TO BE FOUND. I fear I may have thrown it out in a fit of Clean Sweeping several months ago. Starting to feel that my quasi-hoarding tendencies are perhaps justified.
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