The scene: an almost empty suburban garage. Cardboard boxes line one wall, paint cans sit on a shelf, an old wooden ladder leans against a post. A man and a woman are center stage, talking.
Man: Ok, let's clean up. The boxes and the ladder can go out to the trash.
Woman: I'll take the boxes out but I wanna keep the ladder.
Man, frowning: What for? It's too rickety to use and we have a perfectly good aluminum one.
Woman: I might put it in the studio.
Man, eyebrows shooting up into hairline: The studio? For what? You can't stand on it and it's all old and rusty.
Woman: I know, it's perfect.
Man, turning ladder this way and that as he points out its flaws: Perfect!?! For what?? What are you gonna do with it? We don't need any more junk in the house.
Woman: I might hang it from the ceiling.
Man, slight pause as he considers whether woman can possibly be serious: The ceiling? What the hell for?
Woman: Or maybe I'll mount it on the wall. It'd look great with some old linens folded over the steps and a pot of ivy on top.
Man, comprehension dawning: Ah... a display. Why didn't you just say so?