Here’s a rerun of a column from 2010.
I’ve always loved to learn things. I read everything I can get my hands on, including the backs of cereal boxes. I watch documentaries on TV, hoping to add to my knowledge. I’ve found that the more facts I get about things that perplex me, the more smoothly I can handle life’s little ups and downs, not to mention conversations with snooty know-it-alls.
But with all this learning, I still seem to have missed some vital facts somewhere. I haven’t yet learned all I need to know to protect myself from all of life’s problems.
One very inportant thing I don’t know, for instance, has to do with pillows. Specifically with those long white tags that come on new pillows--those tags that say in no uncertain terms, “DO NOT REMOVE UNDER PENALTY OF LAW.” What does that mean? Will I get arrested if I cut one off? Will Uncle Sam stop my Social Security check? I’ve just never found anyone who could tell me that.
I’ve bought plenty of bed pillows and throw pillows in my life, but, being a good, law-abiding citizen, I have never once cut or torn off one of those tags. It’s certainly not because I want them dangling around on my pillows. These tags are stark white, and they flop out on my blue sofa and clash with my decor. And the tags on bed pillows tend to be stiff. They poke me and the dogs in the ears at night.
But cut off a tag? Never! I’m too afraid of what would happen, “Under Penalty of Law!!”
Would the Pillow Police come to get me and haul me away, guns blazing and sirens wailing? Would I have to explain to my boss or my preacher that I’m going to the slammer for felony removal of a pillow tag? Nope. I can’t take a chance on ruining my life and my reputation. I’ll just put up with the inconvenience and unmatched decor. But I’d really like to know what does happen if you snip one off.
I’ve read enough science to know that if I eat too many calories, I’ll gain weight. But I do have a question about Little Debbies, those great rolls of chocolate and goo. In all my reading--and my vast experience in eating--I’ve never found an answer to this one:
If I eat a box of Little Debbies in a weekend, I can gain 3 pounds. Then why, if I leave off a box of Little Debbies on a weekend, do I not lose 3 pounds?
This weekend, I did not touch a Little Debbie. It’s Monday morning. Have I lost 3 pounds? No. Why? I’d like to understand why this formula doesn’t work both ways. I’m absolutely flummoxed!
Flowers look so great in their little plastic pots in the nursery. When I bring them home and put them in bigger ceramic pots which you’d think would allow them to expand and grow and be really happy, they don’t and they aren’t. They turn their little faces to the wall and hold their breath until they die. Why is that? It has to be some dark secret of botany.
I can try on a great pair of shoes in the store. They fit my feet and feel great. Nothing rubs. Nothing squeezes. Nothing hurts. I buy them. I take my new shoes home and wear them a time or two, just long enough that I miss the “return by” date. At that point they become instruments of torture--they rub, they squeeze, they pinch. Why?
And why do I only drop chocolate ice cream (which I eat when I’m avoiding Little Debbies for the weekend) when I’m wearing a white shirt? I’ve never dropped brown ice cream on a brown shirt! Where’s the book that can explain that great metaphysical mystery to me?
Why do companies pay to send me junk mail when they know I’m going to drop it in the trash unopened and unread? That doesn’t make economic sense to me. Sometimes I open one of those “We Need Your Money Now So That We Can Help Those Who Choose Not to Work” requests and read it just because I feel so sorry for the poor guy who bought a stamp to mail the request to me. Then I throw it in the trash can.
Finally, where do socks go when they go into the dryer but they don’t come out? And why does only one sock get lost each time, leaving me with a drawer full of “widow” socks that have lost their mates? Is there a sock engineer who can explain that to me?
You can see that I still have a lot to learn. With the amount of information about the world doubling every couple of years now, I must spend more time reading, looking for the answers. Otherwise, I’m not going to have a single complete pair of socks left, and I may be in jail for something worse than pillow tag removal.
Somebody pass me the Little Debbies and that stack of books and let me get at it.
