Well, not exactly the chimney since the size of them would have made it collapse.
Still thinking about my mother.
When I was little, she never stuffed a traditional stocking. It was always a receptacle of some kind: a wastepaper basket, a bucket you’d take to the beach, or a new L.L. Bean Boat and Tote with your name on it. As you got older, initials would magically appear which is why, without hesitation, mine grace everything I own. In Connecticut they’re considered a rite of passage.
What brought this up?
I was in Duane Reade conversing with a woman who was busy buying regulation stockings….the kind with Santas and reindeer, snowmen and candy canes that normal people hang. Of course the size of them limit the stuffer, so as if my mother was advising from the grave, I said, “Have you ever thought about a nice wastepaper basket you can fill up, rather than one of these? I’ll bet it would be cheaper since these seem awfully overpriced to me.”
At first she didn’t quite grasp the suggestion, but then said, “Ya know, my kid does need a new clothes hamper, so maybe I should fill up one of those.” I could just feel my mother thrilled at the idea of a wicker hamper lined with some chintzy fabric, so I said, “If I were you, I’d make a beeline to Bed Bath and Beyond to get one. They have a whole hamper section.”
“That’s exactly what I’m gonna do, thank you so much.” I then whipped out a 20% coupon marinating in my wallet and gave it to her. She was so happy, and it was then I knew my mother had left the building.