“We’re out of hangers.” It’s amazing how those four tiny words can make my wife go completely insane. I’m not exactly sure why she loses her mind over something as simple as a molded piece of plastic with a hook on it. Maybe she has some deep seeded fear that Captain Hook will sweep in and take her to Neverland and make her walk the plank? Regardless of the reason behind her psychotic hanger behavior the fact remains that once someone utters those four words there is going to be trouble.
The responses to the hanger bomb vary depending on who it is that dared vocalize that which shall not be named. If it was one of the kids then we immediately go into the “I am so tired of having to chase everyone’s laundry around the house” volume of the mom encyclopedia of lectures. Once we go down that path there is no turning back and we are in for a lecture of Titanic proportions. And by Titanic I mean three hours of bad story line ending with someone going down with the ship and an old lady throwing something into the sea or in this case into the washing machine.
In the case of today it was me who didn’t catch myself before I realized I was using my outside voice instead of just thinking the words (which would have been a much smarter thing for me to do). As soon as I said it I realized my mistake. I looked at my kids who were now staring at me like I just released the hounds of Hell loose in the house. They scattered faster than a cockroach colony during a disco party. I was left alone and helpless to face the Wrath of Trina which is like a billion times worse than Khan’s wrath that Commander Kirk had to endure in Star Trek II.
I was told in no uncertain terms that I was the reason for the lack of hangers in our house as if I had somehow become a laundry ninja who under the cover of darkness slipped into everyone’s closet and made off with the colorful plastic leaving in my wake a pile of clothing on the floor that would require three Sherpa and a St. Bernard to find the bottom. Somewhere in the middle of her diatribe I attempted to use a Jedi mind trick on her but clearly these were the hangers I was looking for and I could not move along. It should be noted here that Trina is very strong with the force, as I do believe she made a frying pan fly through the air in my immediate direction.
Ok, it looked as though I was definitely going to take one for the team here as it had now become my responsibility to find the missing hangers. I had no idea who would take hangers nor where they may hide their hanger bounty once the caper was complete. So I decided to do what I always do and find the easy way out.
I went to our closet and surveyed the rods of clothes. At first I thought about just taking some of Trina’s clothes off hangers and hand her the empty hangers but then I remembered the close call with the frying pan and decided that her side of the closet was off limits.
Instead I decided that maybe now would be a good time to see which of my clothes still fit and whatever didn’t fit I would take off the hanger thereby solving the case of the missing laundry accessories.
For the next hour or so I pulled each shirt out, tried it on then threw the shirt into one of two piles. The first pile was clothes that were too big. The second pile was clothes that were big but still I’m still wearing them. I had planned on a third pile that were those clothes that fit well but that was only four shirts which according to the laundry by-laws does not constitute a pile.
In the end I presented Trina with 25 hangers solving the great hanger disappearance of 2012. I was feeling pretty good other than the fact that pretty much every Diamondbacks shirt I own is now too big for me to wear. Still I was proud of myself for losing the weight and then having mindset to let go of my old life and lifestyle.
I thought Trina would be extremely happy with how this turned out but instead she gave me the stink-eye along with another lecture about picking up my laundry. Does anyone know where I might be able to hire a Sherpa to help me climb Mt. Laundry?