Monday, July 30, 2007

My treasures

My neighbor stood at my front door, holding a bag of mat boards in one hand. Son left for another state, left behind the mat boards. Do I want them? Well, mat boards of unknown provenance...I declined.

Then he said, holding out a small object in the other hand, "I found this dead, desiccated mouse in my driveway; would you like to have it?"

Well, now, I don't believe I've ever said or done anything to this neighbor that would lead him to believe that I'd want a small desiccated dead mouse. But whatd'ya know!? I did want the small, desiccated dead mouse, of unknown provenance. Except I wasn't going to touch it with my hand.

The neighbor said, "should I just leave it here on the sawhorse with all your other 'treasures'?"

Yes, I'm sure he said "treasures" in quotes.

So now I have a very dead, very desiccated and pretty cool looking, mouse on my sawhorse.

I bet your day wasn't better than THIS!

Shipped off Fatherland to Topeka, updated Alice's web site (I hope these are the final changes for the time being), and had more back and forth with Rebecca about the flowers site.

Didn't finish trimming the papers yesterday, but now I'm feeling tired enough that I don't want to do it tonight -- that's one of those things that, if you get it wrong, there's no undoing.


gl. said...

man, i hope -my- neighbors ask if i want a dead mouse someday! :D

michael5000 said...

This is like one of those cryptic folk tales from far away or long ago. The stranger arrives, and offers something of value. The woman refuses. The stranger than offers a dead mouse. The woman accepts, and the stranger places it among her treasures.

At this point, everyone in the faraway longago culture nods sagely, comprehending the subtle allegory and the significance of the woman's choice. It's a very meaningful tale. It is, in fact, key to this culture's conception of itself. If only we knew what the hell it meant.

Bridget B. said...

LOL - yes . . . my best friend brought me a dead bird from her barn. I was delighted! I have packed it in salt for a few months to kill all the bugs and preserve it. And then who knows what it will end up as . . .