So today The Lovely Rhonda is at work and I’m whiling away my time on frivolous pastimes like dealing with the many piles of junk accumulating all over the house.

Those of you who know me well (all both of you) may recall that I have a Junk Threshold, which, when met, elicits a metamorphosis in which I grow fangs, claws, horns, and a bifurcated tail.  The hayfork doesn’t appear unless I’m also hormonal, which never, never happens.  JUST ASK ME AND I WILL TELL YOU SO.

Today I’m sifting through random piles of oddments and such, using the bed as a sorting table.  It’s peaceful, although there is an alarmingly large pile of THINGS I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH.

Among the treasures I’ve unearthed so far: photos, filing, loose change, treasured elementary school keepsakes, broken things, things that aren’t broken but serve no purpose to anyone, Chap-Sticks, widgets, thingers, etc.  And this:

Written on the back of a 2009 JCAHO fact sheet.

And this, written on the occasion of the purchase of a blanket for another of the children:

Picketing was next, so we capitulated.

Oh, the humanity.  Imagine what terrible parents we are, forcing this poor child to suffer with almost-soft hand-made quilts instead of comfortable machine work!  I’m pleased to report that once we were made aware of these inhumane conditions, a bright, comfy machine-made blanket was procured for this sad, shivering, underprivileged child.


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