I just couldn’t take it! Our house is such a mess that I want to move out. Adam suggested that we go over to their house and, when they arrive, just hand our house key over to our guests. Let them figure it out. This is very tempting, but we’d surely lose our friendship with Josie and Adam. Messes seem to follow us around. We never met a job that we couldn’t complicate.
What kind of fool does one have to be to continue making jams in a kitchen with a table jacked up on cinder blocks to serve as a gift wrapping station? And why would one go to Wal-Mart at this "most wonderful time of the year?” My excuse for accompanying Richard to shop was that “we” needed to choose a tree, “we” in this case meaning me. I really went to escape the mess – get a little perspective on the world outside our whirlwind. There really are still parts of the world where people can find a place to sit without first removing ten boxes and a bag of bows.
Here we are, back to wading through big boxes and precious papers, Jelly Bellies and jam jars with no place to put our Christmas gifts, let alone our Christmas tree -- which we did finally buy. Let’s just say, if we were movie directors, we’d turn every made-for-TV movie into The Ten Commandments. But, we’d also have a few elves helping in the production – if we were movie directors.
To add to all this confusion, I had some new furniture delivered – new being a relative term, meaning new to us. When Camille was in town, we went to the Tellico Emporium, just to browse. I came upon two perfect pieces, and just had to have them. The artist/proprietress, Carol Baldwin, re-imagines old pieces of furniture by painting whimsical designs on them. I had been searching for “just the right piece” for our guest room/writer’s nook. Carol had painted a pastoral scene on the front of a drop leaf desk that is in perfect proportion to our tiny room. We now have a pristine place to put a pen to paper or to connect a computer while one writes the next "great American novel."
Also on display at the Emporium Annex was an oak rocker on consignment that had been owned by Bob Hardin, Coker Creek’s famous knife maker and leather worker -- who used to make buckskins for Fess Parker. The rocker, too, was a “must have.” Camille was supposed to take our old wicker rocker, but thought better of it before she headed home. Do we really need three rocking chairs in a thirteen hundred square foot house, even if we could fit them inside?
Richard keeps bringing up a service that city slickers use to get rid of unwanted stuff, where they advertise free merchandise and put it on the curb. “Presto!” -- people come to take it away. You think he’s trying to give me a hint that something has to go? I just hope it’s not his wife…