My wife can’t throw away stuffed animals, even if she despises the furry, inanimate objects.
Tonight she attempted to throw away a worn-out, bedraggled, hand-me-down stuffed bunny, but try as she might, she couldn’t bring herself to toss it into the trash.
“I can’t do it,” she said. “You could do it for me, but only if I don’t know about it. So don’t tell me if you’re going to do it. And if I see it in the trash, I’ll have to take it out So don’t let me see it either.”
I feel like I’m living with a gangster who’s trying to order a hit on a pink, polyester rabbit.