We have a mirror right inside our door with lovely hooks beneath it. The idea behind the mirror is that Corey can hang things from it and contain his door-entry stripping of things to the "foyer" of the apartment. Ordinarily, he enters the door and removes things as he walks, leaving piles and trails like snake skin throughout the house. Tires, sneakers, pants, helmets, keys, wallets, tiny scraps of paper with little notes on them like "don't put things on the mantel or Katy will yell."
When we hung the mirror, I could at least get the shirt, coat, and hat to not be on the floor or the sofa. Life was good.
About four days ago, maybe five, we were sitting around and I heard a booming, crashing, thudding sound. Neither of us was very excited to investigate. It was either the neighbors fighting again or the pots crashing to the floor from the mountain in the sink or something worse. So I forgot about it until we were on our way out for dinner.
The mirror had come crashing to the ground, frame ripped to bits and mirror interior sliding down to the floor. Luckily it didn't shatter, because this is what was dangling from our little mirror:
One Penn State Orange Bowl hat from 2006
One Corey windbreaker
One little tiny Katy sweater
One puffy gray fleece
And one enormously heavy winter jacket of Corey's with full pockets and many layers of heaviness
The mirror had a soft nest of down to cushion its fall.
Upon discovery of the pile, I felt really indifferent. I didn't care to clean it up and was sure Corey would take care of it. But he didn't! It's still sitting in exactly the same place and we've been climbing over the wreckage for four days. Last night I asked him why he didn't clean it up yet and he said
"That one's not mine to clean up. Why would it be mine?"
I lifted my eyebrows as high as they would go. "Why would it be MINE???"
He lifted his eyebrows as high as they would go, totally shocked that I could be so stupid, and said "Because you found it. Smelt it, dealt it, Katy."