Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery






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Friday, February 01, 2008


The Dish Rack

We use a wooden dish rack. Sits by the sink on a frequently-changed towel which collects the run-off. (I've never been a fan of the plastic draining board. I can't put my distaste for them into words, exactly.) Wooden dish racks are, by their nature, pretty cheap things. They're not carved whole from oak trees.

So when our last dish rack popped a couple of staples, I put up with it for a few weeks, pushing the staples back into their holes, placing mugs on the cup rack with Jenga-like care. But I quickly got tired of having to treat the goddamn thing gingerly, so I went to a housewares store last weekend and picked up a new one.

I could, I suppose, have tried working some glue magic. The wood wasn't moldering or anything like that. (I've seen some moldy dish racks, people; it's not goddamn pretty.) I could have done what I'd done in years past and pounded a couple of smallish nails into the thing to hold it together. Trouble with that is, you're constantly raking your hands/arms/penis against the nails accidentally. Okay, probably not your penis, but it could happen.

But, seeing as how these frigging things run fifteen bucks or so, I decided I'd treat myself. I set the old one in the living room, awaiting Friday, when I could take it out for pick-up.

Actually, I wasn't entirely sure if it counted as recycling, in which case I'd bundle it up with the paper and cardboard and such, or if it was more like a piece of discarded furniture, which just sits on its own by the trashbags. I weighed this over in my mind for a few days and finally came to the decision that, since it couldn't be easily broken down and made into new paper products, it most likely didn't count as recycling. So I left it out of any bag. My soul felt lighter once I'd achieved certainty in this position.

So I set it outside this afternoon.

I walked the dogs about ten minutes ago. And I was highly disturbed to find that someone had taken the goddamn dish rack. Now, again, I can understand, to a degree, how someone might covet the thing. As I've previously stated, there was not mold on it. Folded up as it was, you couldn't see the loose staples.

But, leaving aside the fact that the dish rack looked awesome, we're still left with the question: Who the fuck uses a dish rack that they found on the goddamn sidewalk, where dogs poop, drunks vomit and people freely fling their boogers? I'm just shocked and appalled, folks.

And I pray to baby Jesus that I never get invited to dinner at this douche-nugget's house.

Maybe they're building an Ark, and they just needed the wood.
I can see a new kitchen magnet right reads:

Danger: Please do not wipe your penis on the dishrack or you will get nailed.

Okay. Not my best joke.

But that ain't sayin' much.
Whenever we need to get rid of something odd/old & gross/falling apart that can't go in the regular trash, I threaten to leave it on the sidewalk with a "free" sign on it.
I would love to get a picture of whoever would haul my crap away willingly.
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