Things I found in my storage unit today PART I

• A friendly nisse
• Blue suede cake mix
• Prince Albert in a can
• Brett Somers
• Elton John

On this holy and widely celebrated National Grammar Day,

let us pause—using the punctuation of our choice—to give thanks that the holiday’s name has been shortened from the National Violent, Racist Grammar Day that was established in the bygone era of this venerable childhood grammar primer that up with which my mom grew.

Three antiques workin’ 9 to 5

Well, one 1979-era antique hand-glazed, home-kilned ceramic office mug—WHICH IS THE BEST WE COULD DO PEOPLE BECAUSE IT WAS PRE-PINTEREST AND WE PRETTY MUCH HAD TO WING IT WITH OUR RUSTIC-BEAUTIES-OF-THE-EARTH CRAFT PROJECTS—and two non-antique people who couldn’t POSSIBLY have been alive in 1979.

#9to5Musical

I’ve spent my evening epic-purging my clothes and shoes, and then—obvs—rainbow-organizing my First-World-obscene shoe collection ... all while rocking out to the Full Monty cast recording on repeat. As one does.

A brief docent-led tour:

Above: as top-down rainbowy as I could organize my running/athletic shoes, with rows of white and black on the bottom. All topped off with a size-large Jake the Drake Beanie Baby, which I bought as an investment in place of opening any IRAs or 401(k)s.

*taps head to show how good he is with money*

Also above: as top-town casual-to-formal as I could organize my Converse-genre sneaks, with my forlorn dress shoes on the bottom wishing in vain that I’ll someday have a reason to dress above my demimonde station. A disorganized basket of flip-flops sits to the left, along with an ugly antique ladder I’ve cleverly repurposed as a belt holder. My gym towels perch on top. Because I had no idea where else to put them.

This is my consumerist shame.

Mom’s antique stuffed red reindeer is just as stiff and uncuddly as Dad’s scowly won’t-even-acknowledge-me-for-what-could-have-been-an-adorable-under-the-tree-photo Bitch Kitty, who is clearly trying to hate me to death

What knockers!

This dainty, wedding-ringed hand served as the knocker on the front door of the house where I grew up ... and now where my sister’s family lives. Nobody ever used it because we were wired with that fancy newfangled doorbell technology, but it did serve as an effectively dire warning to potential knockers that we weren’t above using human body parts to decorate our home.

It has come to my attention that today is National Grammar Day

Thankfully, the name has been shortened from the National Violent, Racist Grammar Day that was established in the bygone era of this venerable primer that up with which my mom grew.

There IS no Step Two ...

My family buys nothing—NOTHING!—more important than a package of socks without first going through the Ten Steps of Painfully Indecisive Covetousness:

1. Oh, look! There’s the thing I’m actively looking to buy and it’s right here in front of me right now so my search is over and I’m going to buy it.
1a. or: Oh, look! There’s something I just stumbled on in a store that two seconds ago I didn’t know existed and now I desperately want it so I’m going to buy it.
2. But am I sure about this?
3. Maybe I can find a cheaper and/or better version of it somewhere else.
4. But first let me take 72 pictures of it on my phone so I can remind myself in perpetuity that I don’t have it every time I scroll through my photos.
5. It’s totally worth it to drive to five similar stores scattered across town and then to spend 30 minutes researching it online if I can save five dollars when I inevitably buy it.
6. It goes without saying that it’s also totally worth it to go back to visit it nine or fifteen times at the store where I first saw it, just to be sure I really want it or to see if it goes on sale.
7. But I’m not obsessing about buying it or needlessly delaying this inevitable purchase or anything.
8. OK, two weeks have gone by and my life is empty and chokingly meaningless without it so I’m just going to go buy it.
9. Well, shit. It’s gone.
9a. or: Now that I have it home, I’ve decided I really don’t like it so I’m going to return it.
10. I’m just going to run in to Target for a few quick things.

SO! Imagine my surprise when—mere hours after we realized that we’d probably need to buy an easy-to-use recliner with a tall back for my dad because he’ll have problems sleeping in a flat bed when he comes home from the hospital so we were going to split up and start multiple Step Ones at all the recliner stores in town this afternoon—Mom sent me an urgent text telling me to come to the first recliner store she’d visited because she’d found the perfect recliner and she’d put a hold on it and wanted me to come test it before she bought it.

Which I did. And then which SHE did.

Let me type this slowly for you so you can comprehend its tectonic shiftiness: My mother, the High Priestess of the Ten Steps of Painfully Indecisive Covetousness, BOUGHT AN EASY-TO-USE-RECLINER WITH A TALL BACK ON JUST THE FIRST STEP. Without even blinking.

I’ll give you a moment to lift your jaws up from the shifting tectonic plates beneath you.

What’s more, our awesome, truck-having neighbor Dan just happened to be free and willing to transport the recliner home for us ... and within 90 minutes start-to-finish we became the proud owners of a new easy-to-use recliner with a tall back. WITH NINE UNUSED STEPS JUST HANGING OUT IN SPACE IN A FOG OF ABANDONMENT AND CONFUSION. But maybe I can sell them individually on Etsy.

Anyway! I had to do some major furniture shuffling to fit our new easy-to-use recliner with a tall back into our living room, but I think it’s now in a primo spot where Dad can be comfortable and not feeling like he’s jutting out into the room as he entertains visitors. And he has a bunch of medical stuff—in addition to his boombox for his books on tape—that he’ll need to keep near him, so I repurposed some decorative chests to become decorative side tables for him. Plus I cleaned them all with Liquid Gold, which those of us who like our wooden antiques to be alarmingly shiny know takes 17 days to dry. So that’s why I’m posting this artfully composed, judiciously-cropped-so-you-can’t-see-what-a-mess-the-rest-of-the-room-is photo at 7:42 instead of 4:00.

But doesn’t my dad’s new man-corner look handsome?

(It’d look mega-more handsome without that butt-ugly quilt and that why-the-hell-do-we-have-a-genuine-oil-painting-of-a-stranger-holding-a-gun-in-our-living-room painting. But rectifying those situations opens a whole new Ten Stages Of Painfully Indecisive Purging process. So let’s all just admire my alarmingly shiny wooden side tables for now.)

Fancy new rug

Hideous old wallpaper border.
I-conquered-Normandy-with-the-Vikings commemorative trunk.

#WeirdButBelovedThingsIFoundInMyStorageLockerYesterday

#CedaRound: NewBo Coolness

Oh, nothing

Just wiping the last of the slavish devotion that got all over me during my 2,000-seat standing ovation. How was YOUR night?

And how sweet is this hockey gig? We wait in our lavishly appointed dressing room sipping complimentary RC products and getting unlimited tarot readings until we’re summoned to star in the second-to-last number, catch our breath during the last number, and then soak up cheering applause in my beloved Paramount Theatre as Orchestra Iowa plays a robustly joyful “Sleigh Ride” mere feet behind us. Just getting to stand on the Paramount stage is all I need to brighten my whole week ... but RC PRODUCTS TOO?

Also, how adorable is my mom’s childhood toy Rudolph (or maybe it’s just a charmingly disfigured dog — the jury’s still out) that we recently found buried in a box of stuff and added to our standard under-tree decoration collection? It’s twice as old as I am, but we both still look 28 — which is more like 25 when we’re not in the direct glare of the tree lights.