I am not the Goodwill drop off
Nothing excites me more about the prospect of moving out of my parent�s house quite like the idea of everyone in my family getting ride of their old junk and it ending up in my possession. The other neat thing is that if I move (the big, big �if�) I will be moving to the East Coast so they�re mailing this garbage here when they could a) wait until I�m there anyway and they make their unannounced visit b) mail it to the place I�ll end up living c) dump it at their own Goodwill.
Today�s old junk is Dead Helena�s. Dead Helena, when she wasn�t dead, was my cousin�s (sometimes called nephew�s because they call me uncle due to a 20 year age gap) grandmother that we don�t have in common. Helena was not in the Christopher Stewart Fan Club, I hope her ashes are dancing like Mexican jumping beans to know that I have her stuff. I probably won�t even use it. What would I use a punch bowl for? I think they�re dirty. Forget it.
I should get a digital camera so that I can take pictures of the real winners I�ll be getting.
I stayed home to watch their dog who was in one piece when they got home. I deserve something besides his medical bills for that. It goes to show that you�re just as safe out in the public as you are at home.
For the Record, I got very little sleep last night as his exposed vertebrae tale was wagging in my face, getting blood all over me in my dreams.