9-1-Pottery-Barn-1
Pottery Barn. Pottery Barn!!! For Pete’s sake — have some respect.
Ugh! I was going to gag! Again!
How much did I have to get stuffed week after week?
I was beautiful. Made of pristine white linen with little, perfectly shaped, not-too-ostentatious rosettes lining my full body.
And they… they! THEY had the audacity to… the brazen utter rudeness to…
To shove their dirty, filthy, smelly, gross, body-odour-ful clothes into me. Day after day.
Socks! Ugh, I could gag! Little Joe’s dirty underwear, don’t get me started. Grandpa’s undershirts… did no one ever teach this man that there is such a thing as a shower???? Not to mention DEODORANT!!!!!
Rude, rude, rude.
But… then… sometimes I think “they do love me… they do value me…”
Every week, they suddenly decide to empty me and take every filthy rag, sock, undie, and sweat-sopped shirt… then, like a silken miracle washing over my abused body, the woman’s kind hands lovingly wipe me with a lemon-scented cloth. She then tops it off by spraying something decadently delicious-smelling – kind of like “lemon squeeze meets lavender breeze ” throughout all of my nooks and crannies and satin-lined perfection.
And she loves me.
I know she does. They do.
She loves me.
She values me.
She knows that I am not just some dollar-store-meets-perfect-rosettes-in-plastic throw-away.
I can feel her smile looking at me.
I feel myself breathe in the beauty of this moment, of this connection. It is so real.
I finally remember who I am.
Not the filthy clothes bin.
I am the Pottery Barn Rosette Utility Bin with satin lining, I dare say.
Oh, how lovely life is! I feel so loved! I feel so appreciated — so… recognized for my truth and my value. Dare I say… my very worth…
Heavens above, I thought I was in dirty, nasty clothes hell forever.
I rest the entire afternoon… I stretch my rim open wide to the room to show my pride, my truth, my value…
“plunk”
Oh. Oh. Oh oh ohohohohohoh WHAT is that SMELL???????
Ugh… I am going to puke! Really, I am nauseous!
The baby’s dirty sleeper… with fresh nauseating, debilitating, infuriating poop stains…
I just cannot… I cannot!
Help me, please.
Someone.
Anyone.
Can someone please dial 9-1-pottery-barn-1??????
I am trashed…
Just washed away…
Soiled.
Spoiled!
Foiled.
Boiling with broiling gargoyling… ANGER!
R.U.D.E.!!!!!!
Easter Ellen
~ writing what won’t behave quietly until it is expressed
Easter Ellen writes poetry, prose, fables, reflections, devotional pieces, and three-degree-sideways observations on life. Her work moves through humour, beauty, bite, tenderness, story, and the truth she relentlessly seeks beneath ordinary moments.
She also helps women think clearly, choose intentionally, and move forward with self-trust through content, coaching packages that meet them where they are, and practical tools for building better habits and thinking processes.