The Bathrobe

Chester-England
Photograph – William Plante

It is not exactly my girl’s apartment, but will do. I found her in the kitchen, removing scraps of paper from pockets of a bathrobe. She spread dozens of the pieces over a table.

 I asked, “What’s going on?”

“I’m cleaning out my file.”

“What would you file in bathrobe pockets?”

“When a man calls to ask me out, I’m usually in my bathrobe and write a note and put it in a pocket.”

“Why don’t you transfer the engagement information to a calendar?”

“Why should I do that? I’d have to find a calendar. I remember.”

I, “If you don’t forget, why write a note and slip it into your pocket?”

“Every few months I spread them out to see if I forgot any. Now, with the IRS on a rampage, should I save them?”

“Naw, tell them they disappeared. You finish up, I’ll be back soon,”

I returned with a box. “It’s a gift for you.”

Excited, she opened it. “I love it, a bathrobe.”

I, “Honey, it’s not a robe, it’s a filing cabinet.”