December 4, 2016 – Tag or No Tag that is the predicament.

          Some clever brain child brought us the tag-less t-shirt.  Aren’t you thankful underwear, pajamas, and many casual clothes followed suit?  As you know they now imprint the information at the back of the collar or in the case of my favorite pair of pajama bottoms at the back of the waistband.

Good thing, yes! Or a Good thing, No?

          After pulling on my pajama bottoms backwards more than once, I now have to wear my glasses in order to see the almost completely faded out printed label.

          Late this summer, I bought a foot stool pillow at my favorite bargain store.  It had one of those “Do not remove under penalty of law unless by consumer” tags that was four times the size they had years ago.  Why the increase in size?   It also had a glossy cardboard tag telling me its decorator’s style would be a welcome addition to my home.  Then there was the price tag affixed with three of those plastic “thing-ees”.  I swear every single side of the foot pillow had some sort of tag.  I cut two off.  Then a day later I noticed the last one and cut if off as well.

Tags, Tags, everywhere I look.

          As I sit in church I notice the woman in front of me whose dress tag is flipped out at her back collar.  I lean forward and tuck it in, and she is thankful. They don’t know my real motive – it says size (s) for small and I’m on the other end of the spectrum and don’t want to be reminded of my less than stellar dieting track record.  Then I stew about where she purchased that high end designer piece; not in this county I easily conclude.  I’m also jealous of her shopping prowess.

This tag or inspection ticket is nothing new.

          Yesterday I found a 5 x 7 index card on which I had copied a snippet out of one of my Mom’s letters that I had found amusing.   There is a treasure trove of these index cards somewhere in this house.  I just haven’t unearthed them yet in my pack rat cleaning endeavor.  But, when I do they will be like a vein of gold for a “Treasury Book of insightful comments between Mother and Daughter”.

Here is Mom’s insight on Tags and Inspection slips:

Why do men keep inspection tickets from their new clothes?  They never seem to get thrown away (only by us).  Is “Inspected by CL10 - in case of defect return this slip with garment”, a secret code of a beautiful, statuesque blonde?

Is there a hidden address, name, and number contained on that paper that can be drawn out with water, aftershave, or spit?  How could they return if defective; it was a Christmas present three years ago?

It is a mystery. Do all men do this?