Day 330: Broken Christmas Ornament, Dead Batteries, Plastic Man, Tiny Handmade Whip & Golf Ball
Listing out all these little toys feels a little like intoning the names of the dead. Somebody conceived of these things, designed them, built a mold for them, harvested the natural resources from which they are constructed, hired staff to manufacture them, and then distributed them to retail establishments. Somebody - somebody I know - bought them.
Lately, they've been in a square shallow basket under a home-scale pinball machine alone with dozens of other forgotten toys. A godsend for a sentimental mother who was up in the attic, sorting through the basket of stuffed animals and rejecting the idea of getting rid of one of the six child-made ugly sock dolls. But no, I just can't bring myself to do it.
Thirty-five days to go and counting.
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