Albo P Fossa—November 27, 2020
A laundry lasts less than a week.
On average, a tube of toothpaste, its brush, and a bar of soap are supposed to last about a month. Maybe my cleanliness standards are different: it seems I get more from each. This time, I magic-markered the start date on each—well, not the soap—to find out.
I can squeeze about two weeks out of a novel. I get some two months or more from a Rhodia pocket notepad and a disposable razor injector used only on the neck under my beard.
Thanksgiving leftovers? The green chilé apple pie lasts four days: we cheated early. Else there’s the modern technology of freezing and those little re-usable containers. Green bean casserole and mashed potatoes, maybe a couple more meals.
Turkey? A lon…ng…ng time. We start on Buy Nothing Day with turkey sandwiches. On Small Business Saturday we’ll have a repeat Thanksgiving dinner. Several times in months coming we’ll have turkey enchiladas and green chilé turkey soup. Turkey. AGAIN?
Go figure how many for each in your life so far—not to mention other items like socks, sheets of paper, light bulbs, beverage cans, trash bags, toilet paper, and any other repeating item you can name. Pile them in your yard: the detritus of a life. How high?
And how many turkey bones and laundries?