When the younger members of my household put on a new item of clothing, in their haste and excitement to don the new plain white uniform top, they cannot trouble themselves to throw out the tags. They do remove the tags, but then, I assume, they just release those paper tags to flutter to the floor, possibly mesmerized by the unpredictable path the tag takes on its way down, but more likely not. If there is an adhesive tag, these young people make a quick choice about whether to firmly adhere it to the bureau or leave it somewhere the puppy can get entangled in it. I assume that decision is at least in part based on how recently the puppy has been groomed; the more recently the puppy has been groomed, the more imperative it is that this tag affix itself to her fur.
On to the spouse. The spouse's specialty is dry cleaning tags. His directive must read something like this: Open up the dry cleaned shirt and violently tug the sleeves until the clear plastic clip goes flying, the further the better. It will be an unexpected treat to find the clip later (kind of like those picture perfect sea shells Candy Spelling would have her staff hide in the sand on the beach for her spoiled little Tori to uncover - it's true, I read it in a People magazine in sixth grade). As for those little numbered paper strips that are threaded through the button holes, those are torn off and immediately abandoned in much the same way the young people do with their tags. In fact, I am fairly certain that years of practice with clothing price tags during childhood has made the spouse the expert dry cleaning-paper-strip abandoner he is today.
In a future entry I will share my passive aggressive tips for dealing with this behavior. Hint - it sometimes involves retrieving the clips and strips and placing them in surprising spots (a shoe, a sock, a briefcase).
It's like water in a bucket.
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