A Pillow Tragedy

Hi there!

Okay, no more surprise extreme close ups, but I am going to horrify you with the absolutely unthinkable thing that Ma did to me a couple of weeks ago (yeah, Sister is just getting around to transcribing this for me…it’s very hard to get good help these days).  Anyway, Ma did something so mean that even now, weeks later, I find it hard to relate to you my loyal and understanding readers.  But I’ll be strong.  Here it comes: 

Ma washed my pillows!

I know!  Talk about the ultimate betrayal! 

Now, it goes without saying that I had worked long and hard to make my pillows, as Ma calls them, “stinky.”  And what thanks did I get: my pillows stripped of their smelliness by the washing machine?  It’s disgusting! 

But I will say, although Ma ultimately won the battle and my pillows got washed, I did not make it easy on her.  Throughout the experience, I employed my most formidable weapons: stubbornness, dead weight, sarcasm, and sad eyes. 

I planted myself on the outer shell of my pillow, prepared to go limp and unliftable, preventing Ma from throwing it in the laundry.

I expressed my extreme loss and disappointment through sad eyes while lying on the naked insides of my pillow.

I sarcastically threw myself across my pillow, discarded in a heap in the corner of the room, when Ma tried to put the newly cleaned shell back on.