There’s something in my closet that has to come out.
It’s been in there for a few months. Shrouded in plastic.
Everytime I open the door I avert my eyes so I don’t have to see it. Kind of like I never see the dead moles the cat brings in.
(HUSBAND: Didn’t you see that dead mole in the middle of the floor?
ME: Noooooo….what mole? Oh, look, that is a dead mole. Bad kitty.)
I’ve been avoiding it for several days, but I can’t put it off much longer.
It’s the giant honking linen tablecloth.
Correction. It’s the giant honking WRINKLED linen tablecloth.
And it has to be ironed before this day is over.
Because if it’s not ironed, the table isn’t set.
If the table isn’t set, we have no place to eat.
And if we have no place to eat, then why do I have a 17 pound turkey in my refrigerator?
So I will be ironing. And I’m very thankful that mole season is over.