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The Tale of the Toadstool
May. 6th, 2020 09:11 pmIn the late 60s, my grandparents bought a new piece of furniture. A toadstool-shaped ottoman in goldenrod polyester velour.
When my parents bought their first house in the late 1970s, that toadstool went to them to help them furnish. I grew up with it.
By the late 90s, it was still in good shape, but no longer fit with either my mom's decorating taste or the way we used the space. But my dad is an inveterate packrat* and so instead of getting rid of it, it was placed in a huge black plastic garbage bag and went into the shed.
Then in the early 2000s my parents bought a much bigger and nicer home, just outside of town, on a piece of property that had numerous outbuildings from when the farmer who owns the land around it used to live here and kept his machinery and tools and stuff here. My parents had ALL THE STORAGE SPACE!!!!!1! which my Dad, the inveterate packrat, started filling up. The toadstool--still in good condition in its plastic bag--went into the barn-sized machine shed.
My parents are using this time when they can't go out and do stuff to, among other things, clean out and sort through the machine shed and get rid of some stuff. (Me: oh thank GOD, it will be less shit for me and my brothers to sort through when they die.) And they found the toadstool. Still in its plastic bag. Still in good condition in all its goldenrod late-sixties glory. About 25 years after the last time it had been used.
Dad consented to Mom getting rid of it. She put it on the "Free stuff in [X Area]" facebook page, and someone they knew got it.
Dad was glad it was someone they knew, because it meant he could say "If you ever get tired of it and want to get rid of it, let us know," while Mom facepalmed in the background.
*My dad the packrat. Here is another example of my Dad's packrat tendencies. When my parents moved, I was in college. So the way we moved my stuff was the Christmas of the winter they were looking at property, I went through all my stuff to get rid of the stuff that had no sentimental value to me and was either worn out or outgrown. So, among other things, I ended up with a whole stack of old worn-out t-shirts to throw away because they weren't good enough for a thrift store. Dad went through that stack and picked out some of my old t-shirts that had sentimental value that he wanted to keep. But Mom and I were at least able to bargain him down from "keeping all of them" to just "keeping one or two he was most attached to."
When my parents bought their first house in the late 1970s, that toadstool went to them to help them furnish. I grew up with it.
By the late 90s, it was still in good shape, but no longer fit with either my mom's decorating taste or the way we used the space. But my dad is an inveterate packrat* and so instead of getting rid of it, it was placed in a huge black plastic garbage bag and went into the shed.
Then in the early 2000s my parents bought a much bigger and nicer home, just outside of town, on a piece of property that had numerous outbuildings from when the farmer who owns the land around it used to live here and kept his machinery and tools and stuff here. My parents had ALL THE STORAGE SPACE!!!!!1! which my Dad, the inveterate packrat, started filling up. The toadstool--still in good condition in its plastic bag--went into the barn-sized machine shed.
My parents are using this time when they can't go out and do stuff to, among other things, clean out and sort through the machine shed and get rid of some stuff. (Me: oh thank GOD, it will be less shit for me and my brothers to sort through when they die.) And they found the toadstool. Still in its plastic bag. Still in good condition in all its goldenrod late-sixties glory. About 25 years after the last time it had been used.
Dad consented to Mom getting rid of it. She put it on the "Free stuff in [X Area]" facebook page, and someone they knew got it.
Dad was glad it was someone they knew, because it meant he could say "If you ever get tired of it and want to get rid of it, let us know," while Mom facepalmed in the background.
*My dad the packrat. Here is another example of my Dad's packrat tendencies. When my parents moved, I was in college. So the way we moved my stuff was the Christmas of the winter they were looking at property, I went through all my stuff to get rid of the stuff that had no sentimental value to me and was either worn out or outgrown. So, among other things, I ended up with a whole stack of old worn-out t-shirts to throw away because they weren't good enough for a thrift store. Dad went through that stack and picked out some of my old t-shirts that had sentimental value that he wanted to keep. But Mom and I were at least able to bargain him down from "keeping all of them" to just "keeping one or two he was most attached to."
