to my former landlady who had four kids back when I had only one.
and who told me that she had run a disposable diaper through the washing machine and complained that she was still cleaning up the mess two days later.
and whom I judged, thinking to myself, even as I offered her sympathy, “How on earth does something like that happen?”
and whom I thought of this morning when among the things that narrowly escaped a trip through my washer were a slice of toast, a wad of saran wrap, a candy bar, a jackknife, and a pocketful of screws.
I no longer wonder how on earth something like that happens. I marvel only at the times it doesn’t.