The Sticker

The inside of my dryer has a sticker. It is small and round and gives short and sweet information to the reader. This sticker gives an insight into my life.

From these small clues you could make a number of assumptions.

Is the sticker a set of instructions on dryer care put on by the manufacturer? No.

Does it indicate the existence of a secret laboratory behind my dryer? Unfortunately not, I really would enjoy a secret laboratory.

Does it indicate my name or address like the stickers they give you to update your driver’s license? No, though I do need to do that.

Does it have a cartoon character’s visage smiling as it turns around and around through each cycle? No, though my kids do like stickers.

Is it a bandage indicating some horrible wound of the past? Nope.

Is it a produce sticker indicating I like to eat peaches? No, though a sticky, sweet peach sounds divine right now.

Have you given up? It says 2T. I imagine it will be there for the life of my dyer. Each time I reach in to empty the dryer I see it. I think of the child who wore the shirt (or pants) and I watch them grow. Someday there will be no more 2T clothes in my laundry, but (if my dryer doesn’t die on me) the sticker will remain, like a tiny fingerprint showing the past.


Her irritation grew as she cleaned out the lint trap. Why was it that every time she needed to get into her laboratory the dyer was full of clothes? She tugged the soft, dry linens out and placed them into the basket. Now that the path was clear she gingerly crawled into the dryer and pushed the 2T sticker. It sunk into the metal side of the tumbler and she heard the mechanism click.

The back wall of the dryer swung open and she moved through. Stretching to ease the strain on her cramped muscles, she surveyed the area. The liquid in the glass canister was still bubbling and she could smell the harsh scent of ammonia. Her lips curled into a huge smile. She was so excited to begin her next great discovery.