Why I Am Joan Crawford

With stealth, I reach for the wire hanger. It is nestled with its 100’s of other cronies on the rod. I want one wire hanger, just one. From the end I pinch one wire and gently try to pull the hanger away from the others. Slowly, steadily, I pull it toward me and it grabs eleven other hangers that instantly and wildly entangle! Suddenly there are two on the floor, three of them dangle from the rod, six are attached to the one hanger I need, jutting out at me. They are like living, breathing entities, they do not let their own kind leave the fold. They are of a secluded clan of wire evil-doing. Die wire hangers, die!

I hate wire hangers.