I bought something on Friday. It's made me very, very happy indeed. I wasn't looking out for it, I just came across it, fell irrevocably in love, and decided I had to have it in my life. I got it home, and in my satisfaction, Tweeted a picture of it, which garnered much admiration and awe from my followers.
What was this irresistible slice of consumer goodness, I hear you cry? What item could have provoked such excitement? A Prada handbag? Some Jimmy Choos? Some kind of shiny piece of bewilderingly complex technology?
No.
It's........
A clothes horse. Yes, that's right, a clothes horse. But not just any clothes horse, it is the mother of all clothes horses. It is what all other clothes horses want to be when they grow up. It is, as one of my friends has christened it, a clothes giraffe. It has a staggering total drying area, a big sticky-up rail bit that you can hang hangers on, and even special little whojammies for drying shoes on. It makes the previously-loathed-and-detested task of hanging up all the teeny tiny scraps of children's clothing a veritable pleasure (at least until the novelty wears off).
Oh, who am I kidding? It's a bloody clothes horse. It is for drying clothes on. It is unreasonable and sad to be so obsessed with such a thing, and a sign that I am hurtling inexorably towards middle age. My only comfort is that, judging from all the reactions, all my friends are heading there with me.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
can we have a picture please as we hurtle into middle age-dom with you!!!!
ReplyDelete