Stories from Drawer #3

PALEOLITHIC BARBIE?
PALEOLITHIC BARBIE?

I am having my house painted. I mean I am having my entire house painted, every room, every closet, every wall, every ceiling. And of course, once you commit to painting every room in the house, you notice all the other stuff that’s been irking you for the last twenty years, and hey, why not put those projects on the list too, until you realize you have kind of a big thing going on.

I can’t say why, after living with my home’s flaws for years, I chose this particular time to tackle them. I hate to think it might be because my subconscious knows I haven’t long for this world. (Time to get your affairs in order, spruce up the house before the kids have to put it on the market.) That’s how my mind works. That’s exactly how my mind works.

The painters arrive tomorrow. The first thing they’re doing is removing all the 1970s-era popcorn ceilings. It’s a fairly messy job and it means everything in the area where they’re working has to be moved out. Consequently, I have the contents of the guest bedroom, playroom and office squashed into my bedroom with the existing furniture. It looks like the Goodwill in there.

It was cleaning out the office that nearly did me in. I’ve been meaning to do it periodically for years. Now and then I’d make a half-hearted effort – maybe toss out some old bank statements – but nothing that made a dent in the ever-replenished stacks. Sometimes the only thing that works is the imminent arrival of workmen.

Which, if you’re still with me, is how we get to Drawer #3. That’s the bottom drawer of my file cabinet, where I tend to throw all the oddball stories I’ve run across, clipped, saved and forgotten over the years. Of course, much of Drawer #3 went into the recycling bin. But you’d be surprised, some of this stuff holds up remarkably well.

Like this letter that the Smithsonian’s Paleo-Anthropology Division sent to a man who kept mailing them objects he believed to be of enormous scientific value. (Originally published in the Minneapolis Star Tribune but undated. I’ve edited it down a lot.)

Dear Sir:
Thank you for your latest submission to the Institution, labeled ‘Hominid skull.’ We have given this specimen a careful and detailed examination and regret to inform you that we disagree with your theory that it represents ‘conclusive proof of the presence of Early Man 2 million years ago.’ Rather, it appears that what you have found is the head of a Barbie doll, of the variety of Malibu Barbie.

Without going into too much detail, the specimen looks like the head of a Barbie doll that a dog has chewed on. Sadly, we must also deny your request that we approach the National Science Foundation’s Phylogeny Department with the concept of assigning your specimen the scientific name ‘Australopithecus spiffarino.’

The entire staff speculates daily on what you will happen upon next in your digs at the site you have discovered in your backyard. We are particularly interested in hearing your theories surrounding the juvenile Tyrannosaurus rex femur you recently discovered with the deceptive appearance of a rusty 9mm Sears Craftsman automotive wrench.

Harvey Rowe, Curator, Antiquities

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January ad nauseum

READY FOR SOME WINTER FUN

Why, yes, it is snowing again. I’m ignoring it.

July 24, 2009 – The Garage Sale, Part 2

The garage sale progresses as well as you’d expect, only worse. The mountain in the garage is rapidly encroaching on my parking space and the kids keep dropping things off. I can’t open the car door all the way and have to step on bed rails to get out.

Gina, hubby and toddler spent last weekend at my house so she could sort through her stuff. She didn’t finish, and if she finds one more thing she wants to take home with her, divorce is imminent.

Jill brought several things over to sell but never looked at her pile of belongings in the basement.

Jessica found a number of household items her paternal grandmother gave her, but we can’t put them on the garage sale in case they turn out to be valuable.

Also, I’m getting some pushback on selling the formals. One daughter might want to dress up as a lounge singer for Halloween. Another thinks she may again fit into that dress she wore to the 1993 Homecoming Dance (once the baby weight is gone).

More garage sale treasures found:
sweater stone
inflatable palm tree
cowboy hat cleaner
5 Christmas wreaths

Meanwhile, I have several closets and drawers to go through. I overdid it last weekend – now I have a sore back and two tennis elbows, and I figure the chiropractor’s bill will probably eat up any garage sale profits.

Coming up: The Garage Sale, parts 3 to 6