The Raisin

I was feeling like "Holly Homemaker" this morning as I tended to the laundry. I opened the door of our front loading washing machine. More often than not, when I do this, I find treasures resting near the door... a "hair pretty," a penny, a foam sticker, or whatever made its way into a pocket of a child.

Today was no different. I opened. I looked. I saw... a treasure. A raisin. A big, juicy, water-filled raisin. You know how they get when they are water logged. Remembering our recent oatmeal breakfast, I marveled at how such a treasure made this exciting journey.

I grabbed a handful of wet laundry in one hand. With the other hand, I went for the raisin. I reached out and gently squeezed my fingers around the treasured fruit. This water-logged treat must have lost all its fiber in the spin cycle. I mean, it was squishy!

It did not take long, as you might have guessed, to figure out this one thing... what I thought I was dealing with, was not at all what I was dealing with. Oh no. Not at all! As I considered putting my finger to my nose, just to confirm my suspicion, I blurted out, "It's not a raisin. It's a poop!"