Who is the bright bulb that came up with the idea that decorative frayed bar doilies should be called ‘throws’? Oh sure these things are marketed as small blankets, but not to brag or anything but I have loin cloths bigger than most of these diaper-sized quilts. How can I be expected endure more frigidity in my life and yet make the correct ‘Sophie’s choice’ between a chilly chest and frozen feet with these 'tinker-towels' in tow?
Except for teenagers, don’t regular folks tend to FOLD larger hunks of fabric rather than THROW them all over the place anyway? Hey I’m not a monster, I understand the necessity of dragging around sheets by your teeth and leaving them in a spitty rumpled heap if you don’t have hands. But for the rest of us, save for the occasional wild HARE burrowing in my 'tum-button' lint, I expect a moderate degree of order for all of life's things that are warm n’ fuzzy.
I continually pinch my proboscis and learn to suck up the effects of ‘chaos theory’ when attempting to butterfly 'onesies' & fold oversized terry robes into crisp-cornered towers of happy linen. Despite advanced age and a graying dome of memory-foam, I HAVE softened my stance a tad on the evils of swiss-cheesed snuggie-smocks and their impossible-to-tame fleecy appendages. I have even given up trying to force fitted sheets to heel demurely in the linen closet without their defiant, wrinkled fuzzy tongue-flap sticking out at me!
But forgive my lack of compassion for the ‘rectanglely-challenged’ squares out there who find difficulty in lining up four corners of their decorative knit-napkins posing as Grandma’s favorite thigh-sized Barcalounger blankie. Do me a favor and suck down an ipecac smoothie and throw up heaps of those ‘eau de tiny-towelettes’ or at least toss ‘em out the window on Flag day. Yes it’s high time that somebody really low like me stood up for snappy stacks of Kong-sized king blankets; to BOTH warm the calloused cockles of my toasty toes and fend off the frappe' frost from my nose!