Inanimate Affection

[ladysprite]

In an effort to improve my life and my outlook upon said life via the power of positive thinking, I am going to refrain from posting vitriolic fountains of hatred for my aching shoulders, deliberately thick-skulled clients, ridiculous bank hours, recipes that always seem to require one ingredient that I don't have in the house, and crochet patterns that require changing yarn color every three stitches. Instead, I will post about things that I love.

Of course, I love my sweetie. I love my family, and my cats, and, however much I rant about it on occasion, I love my job. However, today's special love gets directed towards my patchwork-printed polar fleece pullover.

Oh, patchwork polar-fleece pullover, how I adore you. I know things haven't always been good for us, baby. I know that when my uncle gave you to me, when I was thirteen, I hated you. I stuffed you in a closet and ignored you for five years, to be completely honest. You were big and baggy and heavy, and I was a chubby adolescent who was strangely immune to cold weather. You had a dumb pouch-pocket in front, and you didn't even have the grace to be an actual patchwork item - you were just extruded from the Polar-Fleece-O-Matic device with a pattern of fake patches printed into your being.

I have no idea how you managed to still be in my possession now, after fifteen-plus years of moving from state to state and house to apartment to house. I've sent numerous bags of clothing-like items to Goodwill, but somehow every time I open my dresser, you're still there. And last winter, desperate and chilled to the bone - and home alone, not having to care about what I looked like - I pulled you on, and fell in love.

You're warm, and soft, and snuggly, and did I mention warm? Cozy, even. And your ridiculous pouch-pocket keeps my hands warmer than any blanket. And I've progressed enough in my self-image that I can wear huge, tent-like, baggy, shapeless shirts. As long as I'm home, and there's no company over to see me.

I love you, patchwork-printed polar fleece pullover. I love your utter syntheticness, and your maroon and teal-striped patches, and your strangely beige patches with periwinkle spots, and the blobby spot in the center that I think might be a floral pattern if it weren't printed on fuzzy polar fleece. I love the fact that your sleeves come down to the second knuckle of my thumbs, so I have to hike them up to type this. I think, with time, I may even come to love your zip-up collar.

Right now, though, I think it may be time to share some of my love with a mug of tea, a strong muscle relaxant, and a particularly squashy pillow.....

Comments

[mermaidlady]

I know this feeling. My first year in grad school one of the professors gave all the students socks she had bought in Turkey. Now, as Turkish socks look something like this, I threw mine in a drawer and ignored them. A year later I had to do some errand for the department that involved slogging through the slush-filled streets of Providence. When I got home, my feet were soaked and so chilled I thought I'd never stop shivering. In desperation I pulled on the Turkish socks. Lo, they were incredibly warm and cozy! I've nearly worn them out now.