One day

A perfect autumn morn;  still, warm-ish ... seamless

... until the sun appeared with her own side seam

highlighting an oceanographic hemline outside ...

right angle seams inside.

Not particularly seaworthy,

but my very finest emotional thimble.

Destination ...

your drifting days are over.

Smooth sailing over calm seas,

peace at the end.

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You're not in Kansas anymore...

Ventured off the usual blog path today and wrote a little story to go along with this photo...India is up to a bit of fun over on her blog and has set up quite the irresistible challenge to answer this question:  how in the world did that pile of wet AND burned laundry end up on the pavement?  Pop on over to read the stories ~ if you're in the mood for some chuckles, that's the place you wanna be!  

Here's my tale...

You're Not in Kansas Anymore

The Wicked Witch of the West was cruising around looking for trouble, a favored pastime. But the Fitzroy streets were quiet and her disgruntlement was brewing. Where was everyone? Safely ensconced in their tidy little houses, she suspected. With great disgust she fumed and grumbled obscenities to herself, all the while keeping close watch on the streets, itching for mayhem.

The she spied the open door. The launderette was deserted.

Ah ha! This could be the perfect opportunity to wash her colorful undergarments without anyone knowing. After all, she had a reputation to uphold. Having flown half way around the world, she hadn't realized how cold the winter would be in this Land of Oz so she had been forced to don several layers of girlie apparel under her voluminous black cape. Peach colored leggings, an aqua chamise, lavender knee socks, all worn by the meanest, baddest witch of them all?! This was a secret that must never be known.

Dashing quickly inside, the Wicked Witch chuckled to herself (in the evil way that only witches can do), propped her broom against the washer and felt secure in the knowledge that if spotted by any passerby she would surely be taken for the cleaning woman. She went about her task with feverish intensity.

Anxiety rose while the dryer spinned - it was now growing light outside. I must make haste, she thought, and without further ado, swung open the dryer door, removed all her pretties before they were completely dry, put them on and got as far as the doorway...and melted right there on the sidewalk.

Morale of the story: when you are the Wicked Witch of the West, lost in the Land of Oz, remember to dry clean only.

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