Hence I will strive over a period of posts to produce (please note the alliteration) my story for the benefit of first-time readers. So, without further ado:
One of the most memorable non-memorable incidents of my early years was the word "scraps", meaning the detritus left behind after folding and rubber-banding our newspapers (my sister and I were paper carriers).
Scraps would consist mostly, it seems to me now, the plastic band that held the stack of 40-90 newspapers together. It would also seem to include, although memory fails, of broken rubber bands and perhaps a covering newspaper that protected the newspapers themselves. Perhaps too we left on the floor of the garage (which is where our rubber-banding and plastic bagging went on), the rubber band box and/or the plastic bag box.
These scraps had a nasty habit of not disappearing. They say no job is finished until the paperwork is done, well no newspaper job was done until the garage was put back in its original pristine order. Needless to say, it seemed most days the job wasn't finished, and I don't know why because it's not like Mom didn't enforce this. I can't imagine now, with hindsight, what possessed us to leave scraps on the floor in plain view, given the fits it gave my Trappist Mom. (Trappist in the sense of being a neat freak.)
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