Walnuts on My Windshield, #20

November 24, 2004

I collect bookshelves. I have a habit of collecting books, and that inevitably leads to a need for display space. When we lived in Little Rock, we had some books, but many of them were in boxes, where, obviously, they would never be read. When we moved to Walnut Shade and Scott had the attic converted into usable living space, we suddenly had a very nice library, and I decided that all the books - the collection was growing rapidly - should be displayed.

Since then, the children have learned that the only thing that attracts me to a yard sale is books and/or bookshelves. In fact, I have gotten quite good at drive-by reconnaissance. Last week, I was taking Jessica to her piano lesson, when I noticed, down the hill next to the community building, a spread of debris that could only be a yard sale. As I zipped by at 40 mph, I noted a nice-looking shelf and commented to Jessica that maybe we should buy it.

On the return trip, I realized that this shelf would be wonderful for Andrew's room. Andrew has lots of books, toys, paper, and writing implements, and the one small shelf that he has for storage is no longer adequate. However, I will always keep that shelf in service somewhere; I like it a lot. My dad made it for me when I was a child. I actually remember him making it. He made one for me and one for my brother in the basement of our house at 6233 Kingoak Drive in Cincinnati. I was probably about eight at the time. The shelf is put together without nails. It's all held together with pegs, and it is as solid as a rock! I remember that there was much sanding and varnishing of the end product and the dust in the basement was a problem. I have had this shelf in use now for 35 years and it is still in great shape. But back to "the shelf."

I got home and told Scott about the shelf. I asked him to go look at it and see what kind of a deal he could make on it. He is much better at bargaining than I am. He and Katie left promptly. A few minutes later, a man drove a truck into our driveway, pulling a flat-bed trailer, on which was positioned "the shelf." I was astounded! This thing was HUGE! Looking down the slope from the road, it had looked like a nice, though rather unique shelf. I had noted the five shelves, the back (very useful for the stuff of five-year-old boys), and the fact that the end panels were trapezoidal, rather than rectangular. In other words, the top shelf was a certain depth, the next shelf down was deeper, the next, deeper, etc., so that the bottom shelf was more than twice as deep as the top one. I had visions of Andrew's books and writing supplies on the top two, and toys of all kinds on the rest. Now, as I surveyed "the shelf," lying on its back in the sunlight, I realized that we had purchased a monster.

It obviously hadn't fit in the van, so the seller had provided transportation. Very kind, and thankfully, it was only half a mile. Now he and Scott were discussing how to carry it in. I wasn't sure it would even fit through the front door! Much conversation ensued, primarily about the height of the ceiling in the stairwell. The first floor overhang is cut so that the Scott has to duck his head at one point every time he goes up or down the stairs. It was that specific point that caused concern. Here we had bought this thing, and now we weren't even sure it could be moved upstairs! The gentleman was picking mud dauber nests off the underside of some of the shelves and commenting that it had been in a horse barn. Lovely.

I had to leave to retrieve Jessica from her piano lesson, which I decided was probably providential. It just doesn't do to have a woman watching men move furniture. Too hard to watch and say nothing! When I returned home, the man with his truck and trailer was gone, and the monster was not on the front porch, which I took to be a good sign. I found it reclining on its side atop two inverted bathmats (for sliding purposes) in the upstairs hall. Of course, it blocked everything and nearly reached the ceiling. The second floor ceilings are only seven feet high. Scott wanted to know where it was to go.

I said, "Andrew's room," but both boys immediately countered with, "no, Josiah's room!!!" Scott and I conferred and agreed that, because Josiah's room was larger and because he has even more stuff than Andrew, it would indeed go to Josiah. Never fear on Andrew's stuff, though; Scott had picked up an additional bookshelf (more of a standard model) for only $10, which would be fine for Andrew.

I will spare you the details of what had to be done to Josiah's room to move the monster in, but suffice it to say that Jessica, our ace organizer and de-clutterer-for-pay, spent three and a half hours working in there. The result was a total room makeover, with the hated metal cubes moved out, all the remaining furniture re-arranged, and the monster neatly stocked with everything from T-shirts to toys. Josiah's room looked fabulous!

The next day, she tackled Andrew's room, with equally stunning results. She has received what she believed to be just compensation, and now both boys can actually keep their rooms clean! (That statement refers to ability, not necessarily motivation or desire.) I learned that Scott spent only $25 for the monster, and obtained a nice pair of cowboy boots for Andrew free in the deal.

Considering the difficulty with which the monster arrived in Josiah's room, it is likely that if we move, it will need to be dismantled and tossed out the window in pieces. But for now, the cry, "there's a monster in my room!" would be an accurate one for Josiah.

From My Bookshelf (a rhetorical phrase, not to be confused with a monster):

It Shouldn't Happen to a Vet by James Herriot, rank: 8. I read most (all?) of James Herriot's books about his 1930s Yorkshire veterinary practice when I was in junior high and high school, and I just loved them. In listening to this audio book, which seemed to be a "best of" compilation of a great chapters from former books, I realized why: his life was a zoo, just like mine! He writes about his life much like I do, with a dry humor and vivid detail. This was quite enjoyable to listen to. Hearing some of these stories again was like visiting a good friend whom you haven't seen in ages.

Quote of the Week:

"It is not enough to have a good mind. The main thing is to use it well." ~ Rene Descartes

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