A banner day

Well the auction trip was a complete and total success. John’s record and book lots ended up having a number of cool finds, so I retract my previous statement where I referred to it as crap.

We wedged the china cabinet into the trunk and made our way home slowly on the country road, crossing our fingers and hoping we’d get back to the house before I succumbed to carbon monoxide poisoning from the fumes pouring into the back seat through the open trunk (we did have the windows open for fresh air). I had to be back there, see, holding on to our new purchase, watching closely for any signs of movement that might indicate it was coming loose. The emergency plan was that at the first sign of trouble, I would yell, grab on with both hands and fight against the forces of gravity with all my might, and John would immediately pull over and stop the car. It wasn’t a great plan, and I’m glad we didn’t have to put it into action. I may be stronger now after all my working out, but if that cabinet had decided to make a break for it, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have been able to stop it.

Luckily, we made it home without incident. I spend a chunk of the afternoon gently but thoroughly Murphy’s Oil Soaping the cabinet, because it was filthy. It didn’t look all that dirty, but when I went to wipe it down, it was disgusting, which leads me to wonder how much of my furniture is secretly coated in dirt. Given my indifferent housekeeping habits, I’d have to guess that a lot of it is. There was this episode of the British version of Coupling (I think it was Coupling) where the characters had a pact that if one of them died, the other would go to their house and clean up all of their porn before their mother could see it. I don’t need that service, but if I do kick the bucket, if one of my friends would just come clean my house before my mom sees it, that would be great. I wouldn’t want her to be shocked at the state of my bathrooms. Of course, if I’m dead, does it really matter? Does death free us from worrying about what our mom will think? Eh, probably not, at least in my case. My mom’s guilting abilities probably extend beyond the grave.

But I digress. For some reason cleaning that cabinet made me totally morbid, and I actually was thinking about how dirty my possessions might be after I die for part of the time. What the hell is wrong with me? Anyway, we got the cabinet, which is now clean, home, and it has already grown on both of us even more. All it needs is a little touching up, and then a nice polish, and by this time next week, it should be tucked into the corner of my dining room/office, chock full of my great-grandmother’s china. I’ll post a photo once it is ready so everyone can share in its glory.