The Tyranny Of Spray Bottles

You’ll want to read this, it’s important. A few days ago I took my clothes out of the clothes dryer and hung them on the shower curtain rod prior to hanging them in my closet. It’s a three stage process:  stage 1) hang them on the shower curtain rod; and stage 3) hang them in the closet. Stage 2 is where everything went to hell.

            Stage 2 is where I take a spray bottle filled with water and mist my shirts. Since in a full day of doing basically nothing I’m much too busy to iron my shirts, misting them with a spray bottle is a good option. I mist my shirt, let it hang for a half hour, and most of the wrinkles, magically, are gone. No ironing. Then I can return to my regularly scheduled programming of doing basically nothing.

            But that’s not what happened a few days ago. When I grabbed my spray bottle and tried to mist my shirts, I got an anemic, intermittent stream of water drops instead, like what babies do when they spit up on your shoulder.

            This isn’t the first time this has happened. I’ve probably gone through two dozen spray bottles in an equal number of years. We can invent electric cars that drive themselves and no one can invent a spray bottle that lasts more than a year? You’re not trying, people.

            It’s pretty clear to me that this isn’t an accident. No one else I know has defective spray bottles. I buy them from the same place every time, my local hardware store. They know me there. Is it too much to believe that a cabal of bathroom terrorists has infiltrated the spray bottle department? Some of the spray bottles have green caps and some have red. I always buy the red ones.

            So let’s put the pieces together: The same people sell me my spray bottles every time. I buy them from the same store. I buy the same spray bottles every time. And they never work. Sound like a coincidence to you?

            Think about it.