by Hugo Barneezles


My personal fascination with dryer lint began when I was a medium-sized child (size 10–12), staying for the weekend at my grandmother’s house. (At least, I think she was my grandmother. She sure looked like my grandmother.) “Grandma” was very fond of her Sears Kenmore appliances—her fridge, her toaster, her state-of-the-art 8-track recording studio . . . but she was especially attached to something in her laundry room.

It was an original Monet, which she had beeen given as a child by the kindly Impressionist himself.

Anyway, the Monet happened to hang next to the washer and dryer, because Grandma had many unusual beliefs, and one of them was that the laundering process is enhanced by the presence of water lilies. (Not that I’ve ever seen it disproved.)

Well, dinner’s almost ready, so let’s wrap this up: there was lint in the dryer, and there wasn’t much else for a kid to do at Grandma’s besides play with the lint. Enjoy my book.

Hey later,
The Author

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Copyright © Jonathan Caws-Elwitt. This page revised February 13, 2009.