A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood
I just thought I would share with you, gentle and innocent readers, the song that currently coursing through my brain.
See, a couple weeks ago, I bought this new sweater. I bought it because I was cold. It is a nice sweater, a light beige color, good to match with almost any outfit, and warm, but not sweaty warm. It is, by all accounts, lovely.
Today, I have chosen to wear my sweater again. It is still lovely, and freshly cleaned. It is soft and supple, and happily adorns my shoulders as I sit at my desk. However, until moments ago, it had been left open in the front.
Oh, I didn’t mention, did I. This is not a pull-over sweater. This is a zip-front sweater!
So, I just fancied closing the zipper, and followed through with said thought. An innocent enough gesture, certainly. But my deep childhood memories can only associate a zip-front sweater with one thing.
It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood!
A beautiful day for a neighbor!
Won’t you be mine?
see, my childhood was twisted. when you said this:
But my deep childhood memories can only associate a zip-front sweater with one thing.
i thought this:
“chin skin stuck in the zipper!”
poor mr. rogers didn’t even cross my mind. but your childhood memory is ever so much HEALTHIER than mine…
Oh man! I remember getting my chin stuck in zippers! But I never had a zip-front sweater before. As I recall, it was the footed jammies that caused my chin skin pain.
to be fair, it was the “zip front” that triggered it and nothing to do with sweaters. zippered anything were hazardous. i remember once leaving the fishers island ferry, my little sister threw a hissy fit because my dad was helping her get her coat on and not my mom who was busy with the other three kids. amy was flailing around, cars are pulling out all around us, and my dad just wanted to get us in the car and off the ferry before people yelled at us… and zip! five minutes later the pain hit amy’s brain through the initial shock and she cried for the next hour. this is what i think of when i think “zipper.” a psychiatrist would have so much fun with me and word association.
Yikes. Zippers don’t have that kind of reaction from me! I’m sure there is some other word that would evoke such strong memories, but I’ve probably repressed it.