On a whim, I decided to clean out my closet this afternoon. Specifically, I have a three-drawer bin that Sigourney has figured out how to open, full of items she finds sheer joy in — items that of course she should never have, and are possibly now greeting the inside of her stomach.
The funny thing is, the drawers have been warped for some time and I cannot get them open. Other than the random bits and pieces she was handing me, I had no idea what kind of junk was in the junk drawers.
Today I found out.
- A variety of writing utensils of dubious ability
- Library cards, medical memberships, and drivers’ licenses dating back to the 1990s
- Several glittery breath freshener containers fashioned into jewelry during a time in which a friend and I decided to go Thoroughly Modernly Millie and create a line of rings that open
- My high school ID card circa 1997
- A decade-old package of cherry-flavored Tijuana Smalls, never smoked, but used as a prop in a beanie baby fashion shoot
- A picture of my cousin Jazzhands and her cat sitting beneath an enormous vagina
- All of the (MANY) love letters Ben had ever written me, including some segments of spruce he had sent when wooing me (now in a box labeled TZB)
- An unopened set of face paints
The latter gave me a new idea.
I ditched the reorg for Project Clownface. And had there been other contenders for the title of Worst Facepainter, I still would have won.
And to think, my art project idea for the weekend was making masks out of paper plates. We never quite got there. But I’m certain we will screw up some paper plate masks in the near future.