I have gone and made a complete disaster of my life. (Don’t worry. It all turns out ok. I’m just being melodramatic).
It’s not completely my fault though. I come from a long line of pickers. I remember being dragged to the Mississippi countryside as a little girl. My mom, aunt, and Grandma would go to the old run down family houses and salvage amazing items like old doors, crystal doorknobs, porch columns, and old bricks. I remember being forced to carry bricks…I also come from a long line of child labor 😉
And don’t even get me started on all the antique stores I was dragged to. Hours upon hours. Funny how I hated going back then, but now antiquing seems so fun. SO FUN in fact that it’s the next date jar date for me and Aaron.
Anyway…my family. We like old looking stuff.
So here’s where my story begins. I’ve been at work for 8 hours. I head home and meet my mom and sister before going to my Grandma’s house for dinner. As I’m driving down a pretty busy road on the way to my Grandma’s house, I notice a flash of turquoise out of the corner of my eye. Beautiful, weathered turquoise wood! Just sitting out on the side of the road!
My picker sister mentality took over. I wanted that turquoise weathered wood. I NEEDED that turquoise weathered wood. What I was going to do with it, I don’t know, but that was beside the point.
I sought advice. I called my mom and sister (who had left just ahead of me) and asked them if they had seen it. They hadn’t (they just don’t have my eye). But those little enablers told me to go back and get it. Peer pressure.
I turn my car at the next road to circle back around to claim my prize. I was getting excited now. Closer and closer. I pulled over to the side of the (very busy) road and started walking towards the beautiful turquoise weathered wood.
Then I realize.
This “piece of wood” is much bigger than I thought it was. I was thinking it was about 3 feet by 4 feet. No. This was A DOOR. It was HUGE. I had to recalculate the dimensions of my trunk. I figured it would fit if I lay my backseats down (and it probably would have). I head over to the door and begin toting it over to my car. Here are my concerns:
1. It weighs roughly 100 lbs
2. I am about 3 feet from the edge of a very busy road
3. There are some screws sticking out of the back
4. There are ants on it.
I had to hurry because I didn’t really want anyone I know to see me dragging an old door down the side of the road. (The hardships of moving back to your hometown). I also didn’t want to get run over by a car. I was careful of the nails. And hey. I can totally deal with ants.
The back of my car is open and I prop the end of the door onto the edge of my trunk. And guess what I see?
Kill me now.
I just put termites in my car.
After saying a few ladylike phrases in my head (along the lines of “Oh fiddle faddle!” and ” Heavens to Betsy!”), I haul the stupid ugly 100lb door back to the side of the road. Not as simple a task as you might think.
Then I report back to my enablers that I have gone and made a complete disaster of my life. I meet up with my mom (who is toting a can of Raid!) at the local car wash so I can vacuum out my trunk. Luckily I wasn’t quite strong enough to load the door completely in my car, so there were only a few termites.
Oh and if termites aren’t enough, I also have a teeny tiny little scratch on my finger. Great. Now I’m going to die from tetanus because of the stupid ugly 100lb door. (Just kidding. I’ve had my shots. And I’m pretty sure my cut is from the wood, not the screws—I was careful of those…hence not noticing the dang TERMITES.)
Sorry about all my melodrama. I’m really half kidding. But it was a pretty awful way to spend my evening. I have learned my lesson. Never again shall I try to be a picker sister and attempt to salvage treasures from the side of the road.