Julie and the Flying Hamper of Doom

It didn’t seem like a bad idea, despite the warning that came with the pop-up hamper. “Warning: Hamper is spring-loaded and may release suddenly.”

I read the words. I did. Intellectually, I knew what they meant.

In practice, however, I put the collapsed pop-up hamper on the bed. Cats Cosmo, Isaac, and Dickens sat on the perimeter of the hamper, in a semi-circle of kitty intrigue.

The hamper was held in check by two toggles. Unaware of the mayhem I was about to cause, I nonchalantly released the right-hand toggle.

What followed was a blur of hamper, cats, Julie, socks, bedspread, ceiling fixture, cat hair, eyeglasses, books, and Puffs plus lotion with menthol-y Vicks goodness. The hamper shot across the room. The cats set high jump records. I smacked myself in the head. A sock somehow dangled from the ceiling light.

The hamper now sits serenely next to the dresser. Each cat hisses while passing by, but the hamper is unconcerned.

I left the sock where it was. I consider it art.