The house is breathing peace and quiet. My Man leisurely laying on the couch with his book. Looking satisfied and relaxed, he is. Not taking any notice of me, lying here on the floor. Invisible and unimportant. To him. That book is so much more important. To him.
I know I shouldn’t be here. Not like this, on the living room floor. I’m not aesthetic correct, black and dirty as I am. And I don’t exactly smell like a summer meadow. I belong in the laundry.
He has no idea the time is already passed four…..
The front door is opened from the outside world. Shoes and jacket being left in the hall way. Then the feeling of a never ending heavy silence. A long dejected sigh…..And the storm is here. The explosion of loud and angry words:
Why am I laying on the floor? Why am I ALWAYS on the floor. One day in the living room, another day in the bedroom, the bathroom…. Or in any other room. Why am I always everywhere else than in the only place I belong, in the bloody laundry??! Why don’t you ever learn?
Angry footsteps approaching me. Fast and angry hands picking me up. Carrys me to the bathroom and throws me in the laundry. Then angry footsteps again. Another door…. And the quietness is back. Not as peaceful as a moment ago. But quiet.
From the bathroom shelf I hear a long relieved sigh from the toothpaste tube; puh, it wasn’t me this time.
But I know, tomorrow it may very well be the toothpaste tube. You see, it’s very hard to learn how to squeeze it on exactly the right place. Or it could be me. Again.
I don’t harm, lie or cheat.
I don’t drink, fight or kill.
I just don’t seem to be right, or belong everywhere. I may not look or smell so good all the time. But don’t tell me small things can’t make a difference. I have the power to change everything just by being in the wrong place. I have the power to create thunder storms and change peace to war. Just for being me.
And I am not big at all……
I am, after all, just a pair of dirty stockings!