I was greeted by blue, green, yellow, and red confetti when opening the laundry door. Of all the doors, this was the last one I’d hope to find a surprise behind. But the damage was done. The impact was slightly cushioned by the fact that d makes sure to flip his clothes inside out before throwing them in the wash.
Prying it open carefully, the tattered pattern read Como ye ho, with none of the original imagery visible. It turned out to be a T-shirt given to d by his host family in Asturias 15 years ago, after noticing his talent for solving Rubik’s cubes.
Alright, that’s a sweet memory. Still annoyed by the mess.
I scooped up the sprinkles with the damp T-shirt, the final purpose the piece served before being chucked in the bin. As much as d is good at recycling the same clothes until they crumble and fray, some are better off archived back at home, much like most of my own wardrobe, shamefully.
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