The Migration of the Paperclip

Have you ever thought about the migration of the paperclip? No? Well, neither had I until, during an early morning visit to the bathroom one day last week, a tiny, shinny object on the floor in front of the toilet caught my eye...the left eye because the right one was still crusted shut.

Day 1

It took me several long seconds to make sense of what I was looking at. Not that I don't know what a paperclip is; it was the why that puzzled me. Why would a paperclip be away from its home which is three rooms away, in the top drawer of a file cabinet, and inside a little black magnetic box? And then there's the how. How did it get past the magnetic strip that is designed to keep the loopy little holders of papers confined? Did it climb out on its own or was it let out by someone other than me and allowed to roam free?

In an effort to answer the above questions, I decided to follow this lone paperclip's migration through our house and hopefully, eventually back to its natural habitat. Would it find its way back where it belongs on its own, or would it wander around aimlessly until it became prey to a hungry vacuum cleaner?

Day 2

On Day 2 I found it no longer in the middle of the bathroom floor but next to the wall hobnobbing with the toilet bowl brush and snap-on toilet thingy that never, ever stays where it belongs. It wanders. I wonder, will the paperclip wander, too? Does it have wanderlust? Does it aspire to be more than a piece of twisted steel whose job it is to hold paper together? How boring a life would that be? And then there's the long wait in the enclosed cardboard box or, if you're a lucky paperclip, a black magnetic box that allows clips to stick their heads out and peer at a world they rarely get to experience.

Day 3

Day 3 found our little social paperclip on the kitchen counter lollygagging with a penny and a safety pin. Is this a mass mutinous migration of all things small and undervalued, or is this a case of someone simply shirking their responsibility by not putting things back where they belong? If the latter, I am not the guilty party because I always put things back when I'm done with them. No, really I do.

Day 4

On the fourth day the wandering paperclip found my missing sock, calcium pill, and dental floss. It was a shindig in the middle of the floor that was hard to ignore. Things were getting out of hand. The madness needed to stop.

There is no finger pointing in this house, no stern looks or hands on the hips to show disgust, and no accusatory statements like, "Why did you let the paperclip go free to roam?" or "Have you been wearing my socks again?" or "Haven't I always told you to put my string of dental floss back on the lamp shade when you're done with it?" No, we don't treat each other with disrespect even though at times we may feel like smacking each other in the head with a 2 x 4 loaded with rusty nails. Okay, okay, you know I'm lying. Neither one of us would want the 2 x 4 to have rusty nails in it. So, because of our sweet, kind, and gentle treatment of each other, I decided to not say anything to Tom about his lack of responsibility when it comes to putting things back where he found them.  Instead, I returned the paperclip and its finds along its migration through our house to their rightful homes, and then I went to bed and pouted for the rest of the day.

The paperclip is back home now where it belongs, but during its time on the outside, it developed a secret admirer, another wanderlust who never, ever stays where it belongs. Know who the secret admirer is?