Archives for posts with tag: home appliances


The number of  things I have lost

on airplanes: eighteen hundred and ninety seven.  In hotel rooms: Sixteen hundred and sixteen things.  On bus benches, trains, and other stations of public transit: ten thousand and fifty-two.  These things include:

A fur-collared, cinch-waisted jacket with four coffee stains and three red-wine stains on its cuffs and hem.

An almost-full journal stuffed with lust-poems written on pieces of order-pad from Pannikin Coffee Shop and Café in Point Loma, San Diego.

Forty-seven pairs of underpants in assorted colors, fabrics, and styles including: bikini, boy-short, crotchless, tap-pant, and thong.

A red leather jacket with cigarette-burned lining and no buttons.

A three-pound bag of tangerines.

Fourteen packages of chewing gum.

A Thrifty Drugs Brand disposable flash camera containing exposures that, if developed, would undoubtedly be illegal to possess in Texas.

Three pairs of prescription eyeglasses in unflattering, sale-priced plastic frames.

A porcelain doll (named: Amelia) in a blue-lace dress

Two hundred and seventy-nine novels, poetry collections, feminist anthologies, vegetarian cookbooks, algebra workbooks, history texts and science lab guides.

One Revlon Cocoa Disco lipstick.

Four hundred and eight rhinestone-stud earrings.

Seven hundred and nine dollars and twenty-two cents.

A drawing of a pink brontosaurus by Lily O’Malley, age five and a half.

Ninety-seven toothbrushes.

Sixteen gloves.

An electric popcorn popper.

One almost-full tube of Loreal Sublime Bronze Cream.

Nine hundred and two hairpins.

A green post-it on which was written my brother’s new address.

This is of course not including items lost at dinner parties and dance clubs, while bicycling down Mission Street, in a waterfall in Yosemite National Park, out the window of an office building in Tucson, in moving trucks, and in the clothes-dryer at a Laundromat in Atlanta.  Neither does this count include items that may have fallen from the van at EZ Mart in Newkirk, Oklahoma while stopping midway through a cross-country drive to buy seventeen gallons of gasoline and a bottle of Diet Rite Cola.

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It’s more delicious with a little butter on it.