It’s my morning ritual. Stuff hefty bags full of who-knows-what and drive to town to frantically toss junk into a waiting bin. No, I don’t need a receipt. 3 carloads so far and it hasn’t made a dent. Today I spent 4 hours setting up Dad’s new Internet service (found a dial-up provider way cheaper and better than the evil AT&T), new Google email, new Thunderbird software, etc. All this so he can get coupons he can’t use, and pay his utility bill. After I realized the sun was shining and it was gorgeous outside, I escaped to go swimming at the local Y (big outdoor pool, the only good part about Santee CA). I called 2 real estate agents and made appointments for them to come chat – then realized that they would probably scream in horror if they entered my parent’s home without hazmat suits. So I bought a new door mat (remember when selling a home, it’s all about staging) rushed back to hide things in the garage, vacuum, scrub the floor, etc.
In the garage I found:
The Newsweek issue with Tanya Harding’s knee-bashing interview, a complete set of Judy Collins albums (which I played on the 40-year old record player), many broken beach chairs, a dead sparrow, and lots of spider eggs. Yuck. The neighbors have taken pity on me and invited me over for cocktails. I may succumb to their kind offer soon -- today I am much too busy! With all of this activity, I have yet to tackle my macramé plant holder, made in junior high school. It hangs in petrified dusty dignity in the living room. Would anyone like it?
2 comments:
You HAVE to bring the macramé plant holder back to Seattle. It calls to your neighbors. I know it does. Every neighborhood needs a piece of iconic vintage hanging art that can move unseen from home to home under cover of darkness . . .
any Doris Day 45s?
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