The antique dealer was genuinely puzzled as I loaded bag after bag of his old linen and hemp towels and sheets, "What do you do with these? Do you sew?"
I felt cheeky when I replied, "Other than wrapping it around me while walking in the garden when there is a full moon? I use it for what it was meant for bagging grains, drying dishes, covering a mattress, or bread rising, as a tablecloth, and or wrapping up a dead pig.
He laughed, "A dead pig?"
"Of course," I teased, "Back in the day, they did, you know."
Ask me, go ahead, ask me how many times I folded and unfolded these to fit inside the dome.
Then they decided it would be funny to fall over because linens have a mind of their own.
The Tower of Babel heard a few new words.
I added a rusty key and velvet pin cushion apple to the linen tower. Next, I started to stuff the tower in the dome.
My original idea was to stand on the kitchen counter and put the dome over the tower.
But that wasn't going to work. You see, I don't think things through. I figure it out as I go.
But that damn apple pin cushion would not stay straight. Yes, I swore at that forbidden fruit, sneaky little thing!
Sure, I could have pinned it on, but hey, I didn't think of that until later.
Since putting the dome over the tower of linen was not a happening idea, I stuffed it instead… forgetting to put the velvet apple pin cushion in first. Ding Dong is my middle name.
At last: linen and hemp dishtowels were stuffed inside a glass dome.
Kitchen counter art and a velvet apple not to be used in a pie.
Then funny enough, I heard a knock at the front door. Turning around, I saw Madame Provencal. Holding her market basket tucked in her elbow, she said, "Tsk, tsk, tsk… linen under a glass dome… Corey, Corey, Corey, I am sooooo disappointed in you! Running around in the garden with nothing on but a linen sheet is more your style. Please do not disappoint me now."
I hugged her, ran outside, and frightened my neighbors with no linens in sight.
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