Who is Craig?

A couple of weeks ago, sorting through a manila folder labeled “Old Lists,” I couldn’t resist revisiting a handwritten pre-computer compilation.  Surprisingly, half of the items were still on my current list of things to do.

The window of opportunity for some items had closed.  Like the task suggesting I quilt a bedspread for each child out of outgrown baby clothes.  (Honest, it’s there.  That’s an example of intent and action never quite coming together.)  The list had become so large and unwieldy that I had classified them by priority — A, B, C, D, etc.  The quilting task had a D beside it.  It pretty much looked like D stood for Delete.

Funny, just like the up-to-date list, it included sorting the closets and selling unused articles in a garage sale.  The uncirculated JFK keychain I’d listed as a possible sales item back on my 80′s list is probably priceless now.  Only I have no idea where the chain is now. 

I’ll never be able to cross off cleaning the closets, garage, or the attic, unless I move and don’t give grown kids a forwarding address.  My house is the designated mini-storage area for their trash-in-limbo.  I have to admit it; I own a couple of those if-I-get-rid-of-it-will-I-regret-it-tomorrow? items.  An old ceiling fan is mounted to the attic floor (dismantled because I almost lost an arm on a spinning blade when I tried to follow a vigorous Wii dance move).  The remote was missing, and now out of the blue, the remote is duct taped to a blade.  A mesh playpen (since holding on to it, the term as been revamped to a pack n’ play, which sounds a lot more baby friendly) sits half folded up (because I can’t fit it into its original shape) next to a shrink wrapped Christmas tree, bought from an end of season display, when the GAP guilted me about my Christmas fichus.  Rather than my annual garage sale, the GAP suggested Craig’s List. 

Who is this guy Craig?  Quite possibly the only human with a list longer than mine? 

I snapped pictures and posted all night long.  Snowboarding boots.  Little girl’s bicycle with a flat that we purchased at a garage sale, because we’d fix it one day…  Tires and rims stacked by the chimney by Hot Wheelz (you could have guess that one, right?) three years ago at the side of the house.  Not to mention the yards and yards of black tubing rolled next to the rims that Coco purchased to make hula hoops from.  Two Mother’s Days ago, I was the proud recipient of one of those hula hoops.  This enthusiasm all stemming from a class she took in college (guess the math class was filled).  While I think the units were maybe a waist (punny), it is pretty cool to watch her hula hoop while doing a backbend.  (I’ll try to talk her into a photo later.)

Craig advises you not to meet the buyer at home.  So yesterday my husband drove thirty miles to sell a pair of snowboard boots for $10.  Whoever this Craig guy is, he’s getting a really big belly laugh at us right about now.

Related posts:

1. Why mothers shouldn’t be left alone
2. Sewing on Sunday
3. Spring is in the air
4. He’s a peach
5. Watch what you eat