that finds its way into my hands to serve a certain purpose leaves them unscathed. The next stop for things that do not leave my hands “unscathed” is the trash. I am truly sorry for those things, and I always hiss a prayer for them under my breath to ensure that their existence is ended in peace even though they were so cruelly and suddenly ripped from their being… being the thing they once were…
No. I look at them, think FUNNYHAHAIMSOSTUPID?!, chuckle, cackle and giggle softly or not-so-softly or loudly to myself, take a picture (or a gazillion, it depends) and go on with life. Geez, how else are you supposed to deal with these things if you are so magnificently prone to kaput-ing (and losing – but that, dearest reader, is another story. a boring one. you have stuff, you lose stuff. see?) stuff as I am? See.
