(Photo by Tanner Latham).
Sometimes St. Sara N. Dippity reminds you she’s keeping an eye on you on the road.
I unfolded an ironing board in a Hampton Inn off I-20 near Madison, Georgia. After hearing the piercing squeak of the never-oiled legs, I saw a pair of ankle socks fall out. Laundered. They smelled like a Bounce sheet, and one had a hole worn in the heel.
Of course I smelled them. Wouldn’t you?
I decided to leave them behind. The next soul to inhabit room 106 will have a decision to make.