dianaschnuth

My 20-year-old laundry basket met its fateful end during an exceptionally early morning with Connor and Daddy.

It was literally twenty years old. I’d bought it at Target, I believe, when my step-Dad, Tom, and I were buying the things I’d need for college life. The oscillating fan we bought during that same trip met its fate several years back, when one of the blades randomly flew off while the fan was running.

The laundry basket hadn’t been in the best shape for a while, with a few cracks and bendy spots. After Aaron kicked it in a fit of sleep-deprived rage, though, the brittle plastic shattered into pieces that he later found in the upstairs hallway, in our bedroom, in Connor’s bedroom, in the upstairs bathroom, even in the foyer downstairs.

When it went, it went with style.