2002-05-02 - 6:25 p.m.
Under no circumstance is anyone to buy me any more STUFFED ANIMALS! No more Easter bunnies, no more Santa or Valentine's bears and no more damn Beenie Baby turkeys. Jesus. I'M TRYING TO THROW THINGS AWAY HERE! It is not easy to look into the dull glassy eyes of a giant bunny someone gave you for Easter one year, a big, fluffy stuffed bunny with sad eyes and floppy ears, and THROW IT IN A DUMPSTER. I don't have room for MYSELF in this house, let alone five million assorted stuffed animals that I don't have the heart to throw away.
Why does one get so damn attached to stuffed animals? Why is it so hard to throw them away? Why, why, why?
I often think about three stuffed animals from my childhood that have disappeared somehow. One was a stuffed donkey, a democratic donkey from 1976, that a neighbor kid gave me when I was a baby. Another is a stuffed gray seal I had as a child name Sea-Sea. And the third is my brother's Garfield doll that he bought at the same time I bought my stuffed Garfield (who I named Gari to make her feminine). I have attached great emotional import to these three missing stuffed animals, I feel that with their disappearence I have lost part of my childhood. WHY? Why do I feel this? I sleep with Gari every night, I take her on vacations with me, I've even been known to take her to work with me when the raods are bad because I am afraid I will die without her.
I tell you this because you need to understand that I have somehow come to believe that stuffed animals have some sort of soul, and that makes it very difficult to throw them into dumpsters and think about where they will end up. So, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! DO NOT EVER BUY ME ANY MORE STUFFED ANIMALS!
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