Oh, little zip lock plastic bags that seem to appear from nowhere and multiply like slippery, see-though, bunnies...
Thank you for keeping my teeny tiny purchases safe, separated, and categorized.
I love your reusable super powers.
My stock of found and purchased bits and pieces would be only a jumbled mess without your transparent glamour.
My bench top would be fraught with chaos and confusion if not for your multi-sized sorting services.
My love of organization would, indeed, be nothing without you.
But now it is time for us to part ways.
Forgive me for my thoughtless disregard of your containment abilities and your recyclable eco-friendly resourcefulness.
It is with angst, and not a little bit of wistful longing, that I consign you to the large metal dumpster in the parking lot - never to be used in a resourceful way again.
I realize now, in the early stages of my clutter clearing moving prep, that I have held on to the fantasy of your usefulness, rather than acknowledge the practical storage capacity of my limited studio space, for far too long.
Never again will my fingernails split while pressing your zippy strip closed, or while trying to pry your double layered super strength pocket open.
My heart is heavy, but my brown paper bag from Whole Foods is full. Full of the memory of your support, the knowledge that you were always there when I needed you and the hope that one day you will invade my life again (albeit in a less extreme manner).
Fare thee well, my zip-locked friends. Go on to astonish many, many, many future generations after being discovered in your earthly trash dump time capsule, thousands of years from now. I hope they love and appreciate you as much as I did.