~ Five outdoor cafe tables from Boheme
~ 30-lb. canister of cocoa powder, inherited from The Beanhouse, but how much cocoa powder does a person need, I ask you? I know, Jayne. I should have sent it to you. Please still love me. Or like me. I don’t mean to presume. At least like me. Or tolerate me. Or pray for me because I am so damn annoying.
~ industrial trashcan with wheels — although I kind of wanted to climb in and roll down the hill in it because I saw Homer Simpson do this once and it worked out okay for him.
~ 20 plastic outdoor tables, dark green and ugly but neatly stacked
~ a few rolls of wrapping paper
~ a small rolling wire shelf thingy
~ jug of distilled white vinegar — I have no idea why I thought I needed a JUG of this.
~ container of powder for making the “Java Light Blended” drink — never liked those
~ HUGE ceramic plant urn weighing approx. 357.93 lbs., inherited from The Beanhouse
~ random wire hangers in closet, an homage to Joan Crawford
~ a red wooden stool with cushion that I kept meaning to refurbish but never did
~ various glass vases — I prefer weird random containers for flowers
~ 1 Vitamix blender base, broken
~ a bag of wheat flour — I was inexplicably interested in wheat flour for about five minutes.
~ a metal-topped desk-like thing used for counter at Boheme
~ a large and horribly ailing plant — oh, if only that Robin Williams could show up with a red ball on his nose and save its life!
~ an empty ornate painting frame — see note on “red wooden stool,” ahem
~ a much-debated, half-loved russet leather chair
~ an old humidifier — it needed so much and gave so little
~ a broken VCR — it ate my tape of Sense and Sensibility so if it hadn’t died I would have killed it anyway
~ various jugs of cleaning solutions and potions, also inherited from The Beanhouse and never used because they frightened me and I believed I would suffer the same fate as the Nazis in Raiders of the Lost Ark if I ever even opened them and breathed their vapors.
~ a small group of plates and bowls from Pottery Barn — a gift which had bad associations for me.
~ an pinkish-red paint stain on the bedroom carpet, once half-hidden by the bed
~ nagging questions about why I was painting on the bed
~ a neighbor aptly named Sue — a name both noun and verb for this frankly despicable woman. Her real and perfect name.
~ an empty front door — we took the #2 because we are lowlife toothpickin’ felons
~ the lingering fear of ending up with a poltergeist because of that poor guy who had shot himself in our living room 5 years before our arrival — something that “Sue” had mentioned to me with great relish months after we moved in.
~ hopefully, the seeping shame and exhaustion of the last two years
~ Amen.
