dear from a blanket to a sheet diary,
i just washed my poor blanket- in hot water- on regular cycle- with color bleach instead of chlorine. i'm sure it'll be the last time it sees water. i had to try and wash it though, it smelled like dog. it is almost ripped through to the other side now- but i dunno which side. does it even matter? the hole is so big in the middle now and it wasn't that long ago- the hole wasn't there at all. i mean the stuffing has been gone for a minute, but a whole hole? no. i cant believe that lady cut her husband's penis off again. didn't someone already do that like in january 1994? lorena bobbit. this new bitch put it in the garbage disposal though. that's just wrong on about forty one levels. in the garbage disposal? why not the compost pile? the recycle bin? the dynamics of the garbage disposal and the journey from the pants to the sink to the switch- i cant get my head around. but i don't have to. it ain't my problem. people hold on to pain in many different ways and some people just cant let go. my blanket made it through the wash- one more time- i cant help but to think of that woman out there who isn't cutting her husband's penis off tonight. "good job," i want to tell that woman, "but if you do end up doing it, just throw it in the dishwasher."
