Carried away

I gathered up my past and tied into an old handkerchief and set it aside in a corner. The maid swept it up into a dust pan and threw it into the trash. It’s been tough navigating my way through life since then. For instance, I cannot remember if I liked candy or chocolates or if the neighbor’s dog was spotted or striped. In fact I couldn’t even remember which neighbor. Annoying I tell you.

I know for a fact that I used to have fear of bananas but then again, was it the green ones or the sprightly little yellow ones. See, here’s what I don’t get it. Why do bananas come in two colors and sizes considering they taste pretty much the same. I’m sure if the trash truck had not arrived so promptly the next day I would’ve recovered my past and all this would not have been a problem.

The next day when I stopped the trash truck guy to ask him if he remembered seeing a bundled, old handkerchief he smiled. Of course I do. It’s the one that toppled into the landfill with a loud giggle.

Really? A giggle? But I always thought I was more of a guffaw kind of person.