The Junk Drawer

People, people, people. It’s so simple.

When you stand behind me in the grocery store checkout and you inch your way ever closer to the cashier, and in the process kick my feet, you can avoid having to say “Excuse me” and I would not have to burn a hole through your skull with my angry stare.

I promise you, you will get through the line with all your stuff quickly enough, whether you’ve hopped on my back or not. I prefer you not get all up in my grill and then have to apologize for it.

Here’s today’s lesson: There is an comfortable distance that you should stand behind a person before that person gets decidedly uncomfortable. For me, that’s two feet, not two inches.

You’re not running a marathon, there is no prize for getting to the end of the line faster and all it does is make me want to squeeze your bread until it looks like one giant matzo ball.

Two feet. Not two inches. Got it?

I don’t understand the resistance, really. It’s not like I asked him to shave my legs.

I’ve asked my husband repeatedly if he would help me do something that is impossible for me to do by myself.

When we took our wedding vows, I’m sure there was something in there about helping your wife in her times of need — whether it’s when she’s sick, needs moral support, or if there’s a clog of some horrific magnitude in the shower drain.

But most especially – I’m pretty sure I heard it, right before the death part – he’s supposed to pull gray hairs out of the back of my head where I can’t see to pluck them myself.

Yes. I’m sure I heard it.

Listen. I’m not gray enough to start getting my hair colored, or maybe it’s that I’m too cheap to start laying out fifty bucks every six weeks.

I just want those few suckers gone. I know they’re there, and I need someone to do it for me.

He won’t do it because it’s “weird.” Weird shmeird. Pull ‘em out!

Maybe I should remind him that when we were bride and groom, the operative word there was groom.

Photo credit: Alex Clayton

I think Babs of Beetle’s Memories ‘n Ramblings must have a room in her house full of Junk Drawer merchandise because she won yet another What’s That contest!

The item in question is the front speaker panel on an old Zenith AM-FM radio.

One of the pieces of item information I gave you – that it was found a storage room where I work – wasn’t a hint at all.

Frankly, I don’t know why it’s even in the room, but now I wanna steal it and put it up on eBay. Might be worth fifty bucks if it works.

Congratulations, Babs! I’ll write you soon to see which prizes you want that you don’t already have. Must I ban you from further contests? You keep winning!

Thanks for all your guesses, everyone.

p.s. to Linda Medrano, who said it looked like her prom dress. My sympathies. Got any pictures of that?

My parents raised me right, I swear. I’m polite, courteous, respectful of my elders, and have good table manners.

But I will bare my teeth, growl and possibly stab you if you try to take food away from me. Especially if it is my very favorite dessert, The Perkins Chocolate French Silk cream pie.

It’s a treat I allow myself only once or twice a year. It’s a special thing to be preserved and protected, and certainly not wasted, for it is divine.

Which is why when I dropped a slice of it on the floor Saturday, I picked it up, plated it and ate it. The whole sad, malformed blob of it.

I did not cut off the dirty side. The side that probably spells bacterial infection.

Shut up. I did this two days ago and have suffered no ill effects.

The fact that I ate some combination of cat hair, floor wax and outside world dirt proves one thing: Mothers everywhere are all wrong. You can eat off the floor like an animal and survive.

You won’t look at yourself the same way again, but you will survive.

Bon appétit!

I’m too late for a What’s That Wednesday, but does it really matter?

No, it does not.

How to play:

1. The photo shows a small portion of a larger object.

2. First person to guess the object wins a Junk Drawer magnet and your choice of either bacon bandaids or Jesus bandaids.

Item Info:

1. The item was found in a storage room in my building at work.

2. It’s old.

3. The pattern is distinctive to the item. Most of the items I’ve found like it in my research have this particular design.

Go!