Tell me I can't go up to my aunt's house and shake her like a martini. Tell me I can't - or give me permission.
I know it's not nice. I know that. And after what I tell you, ask yourself if you wouldn't want to do the same thing.
My aunt is moving soon into a much smaller apartment in a nice, safe, well-run seniors' apartment complex and out of the mouse nest she's lived in for 25 years, that her mother lived in for 35 years, and that the previous owner had lived in since 1953. It's a house that's never been lived in by anything other than elderly women. Got that picture? Yep, it's that bad.
I'm the only relative left, so I'm obviously the one to help her sort and pack and move. I'm okay with that - even without the random interesting goodies that are coming my way, I'd be okay with it.
But when she called today to tell me that she'd given away a whole bunch of "junk" to these nice people who came over with one of the neighbors - and that said "junk" consisted of all my uncle's tools and both my aunt's and her mother's vintage table model sewing machines, all the attachments (!) and a whole bunch of "other sewing junk."
Still breathing? Now my aunt KNOWS I sew. She knows how MUCH I sew. And obviously, the one thing you want to do for your niece whom you love aqnd who sews like a maniac is to DEPRIVE her of any interesting vintage sewing goodies in your possession. Right?
I'm so thankful the turquoise sewing case came my way back in April. There can't have been anything else like that left. Right?