Earlier this evening, Chris was wondering if I had seen any of his hangers. His hangers.
Although we have many things we do not share, we share hangers. We have always shared hangers. I’m not the only one who knows this. He knows we share hangers. He does. Really he does. Ask him.
He’ll tell you that we have an enormous stack of hangers making its home on my Pilates chair (because clearly I need to use this Pilates chair for something, and uber expensive hanger holder simply makes the most sense). Furthermore, he’ll tell you that any time I find an errant hanger, I add it to the stack on the Pilates chair. He knows I do this. He’s seen me do this.
Nevertheless, he asked me if I have seen any of his hangers.
When I purchased the hangers (from one of my favorite online retailers, of course), I purchased copious hangers all in the same color precisely so we wouldn’t have to quibble about whose hangers were whose. But to be honest, we don’t actually quibble.
Chris asks if I’ve seen his hangers, I explain that we have community hangers, and we both live our lives wondering why the other doesn’t understand our current hanger situation.